Monday, Monday {the lemonade stand edition}

Posted By on May 18, 2015


Six Months {for baby z}

Posted By on May 12, 2015

 Now that I’m six months old, I . . .


grab absolutely everything

am determined to crawl as soon as possible

tried my first foods (yay bananas!)

am growing more hair

and it’s very red.

Zeke 6 months short


Monday, Monday {the glorious weather weekend edition}

Posted By on May 11, 2015


On This Mother’s Day {the garden did not disappoint}

Posted By on May 10, 2015

On this Mother’s Day . . .

There was a bit of sleeping in and a few handmade cards, delivered with kisses.

There was a bit of fussing and a few time outs, complete with slamming doors.

There was a bit of dinner and a few goodnight hugs, extra early thanks to said fussing.

And then there was the quiet that came with dusk, in a garden refreshed by a rain shower and calling my name.

It was the best present I could have asked for.

I’m A Ramblin’ {about petty things, big and small}

Posted By on May 7, 2015

There’s always a high and a low as life passes us by in each of its seasons. Many highs and lows in this house, in fact. Far too many to count. Sometimes they coincide and we have weeks of joy upon joy, days of being overwhelmed with thankfulness at all the wonderful things our family gets to experience. And then, sometimes, the lows gang up and attack us all at once.

I’ll caveat here that this time, this low season, is hardly the lowest we’ve ever been. Not even close. Instead it seems that the sheer number is what keeps kicking us before we can have the chance to come back up for a breath of those highs.

M’s job is unpredictable, leaving us wondering what is going to be happening in a week? A month? Dare we even wonder about a year? But . . . he has a job.

School and lessons are dragging, long days that we’re all so done with. But  . . . we have the most wonderful school and endless opportunities to keep learning.

Tatey only talks at full volume, saying the word “mommy” well over 500 times a day, breaking any possibility for a coherent thought on my end. I can’t even reply to a text or simple email without having my train of thought broken 15 times. But . . . he talks so much, about so many things, making up for all those times we wondered when he would ever start.

ZZ is in that baby stage where all he wants to do is move and go, go, go. He hates you because he cant but don’t you dare put him down, let alone think of sleeping without him. But . . . other than that he’s the happiest baby we’ve ever met.

The chores and housekeeping and fixing a million and one broken things around the house has become absolutely impossible. Outside looks like a bunch of vagrants have been living here, and I have no idea when my poor garden will ever get fixed up. But . . . we have a house we love and a yard and the means to start a garden in the first place.

And on and on and on . . .

All of my rants are petty ones, but once they start to flow, it’s nearly impossible to step outside the bubble of woe and reach for the second half of every statement. We keep trying though, M and I. We’ve made this life for ourselves, leaping each time with a simple hope of landing on our feet, and dragging each other by the hand through the lows. Pushing, pulling, forcing those smiles that eventually lead to real ones. Literally climbing mountains in search of the the magical moment to send all of the lows tumbling down to the other side. We’re climbing, reaching for that next season, wherever it may be.