Monthly Archives: May 2015

Time marches on

This weekend we had one of those lovely pre-summer storms. The kind where rain blows in by the sheets. The next day wasn’t unbearably sunny or warm so the moisture soaked into the ground just perfectly. I decided this evening to go out and dig up the ground for my garden, since the ground was nice and soft. 

It was prime for digging. The ground was rich and very inviting, my shovel glided through the dirt nearly effortlessly. 

Isabella declared that she too, would dig a garden and joined me wielding a child-sized hoe. I dug up the sod, and she came behind me to hoe the earth until it was smooth. We worked together like that, dripping sweat and content with our labor. A team, she called us. 

Isabella chattered the entire time. I heard about her friends, her school, her bike wreck boo-boos, things she thought were funny and things she wanted to grow, the tomato plant she’s been nurturing, her rock collection, the neighbors dog, you name it. Together we giggled and chatted like that for over an hour, with the only interruptions being the occasional chip of my shovel meeting a rock. 

The nostalgia was thick for me. At exactly her age I dug my own first garden, I too chattered my mothers ear off while she worked the earth at my childhood home. It’s one of my favorite childhood memories. Probably because it’s one of the few times my mother and I were a unit. We worked together doing something we, and only we, both loved to do. It was a common ground that I alone shared with her. I eagerly learned everything she had to teach, likely the very things she had learned from my grandfather, who was also an avid gardener. These are those good memories that I’ve learned to cling to during the times of upset. These were times before things got difficult. Stresses of college tuitions and family crisis hadn’t yet piled high on her and my dad’s shoulders. I was still just a carefree freckled faced girl and she was my silly mom who was prone to accidentally singing show tunes at the post office. 

I didn’t realize it then, but I do now, that this was her love language.

When she used her valuable evening daylight to sit by me and teach me how to plant my cosmos and zinnias, she was telling me she loved me in her own way. When she didn’t bat at eye when I came in with my good clothes smudged from head the toe in dirt because I’d been weeding my garden, she was telling me she understood what was more important. When she hauled the waterhose across our big farmhouse yard to water my parched little plot, because a certain little girl had been too busy climbing trees to remember to water her flower bed, she was telling me she’ll take care of me. 

It’s been a tough year. I thought about these things the entire time I was outside with my own freckled face girl. I let her stay up until the very last drop of light was out of the sky. She got in bed an hour late on a school night and that’s ok. I nuzzled her frazzled french braids and hugged her a little tighter when I tucked her in.

Often times we get so caught up in our hurts and our tough situations, that we forget that things weren’t always this way. It doesn’t justify it, or make it ok to hurt the ones you love, but it’s more important than ever to find those good memories and let them take root in your soul. Cling to those lest you become embittered. Hold dear what you can with an iron fist, love from afar if you must…but love nonetheless. 


7 ways having multiple toddlers is like being an inmate

1. The food. It stinks here in the clink. Know what I had for lunch yesterday? Lucky charms. And a cold leftover dinosaur chicken nugget off of someone’s high chair tray. Don’t get your hopes up for finer fair, the cook in the mess hall has been cleaning up feces graffiti off of cell block Beckett-And-Nora and her culinary senses apparently went out with the Lysol trash. 

2. Bathroom visits are supervised. Oh, what number 2 isn’t a spectator sport in your house?  Your wardens must be older than 2. 

3. Showering. Also supervised. And timed. For the love of everything holy don’t take longer than 5 minutes. All I can say is, I hope your wardens have more manners than mine do. Being laughed at hysterically while you soap up and shave the vitals in record time is not exactly my idea of a confidence booster. 

4. There’s a good chance you’ll get shanked.  Last week I took a bubble chiv to the eyeball, a trip to medic and I’m right back to the big house. Here’s the chiv, man… Look out for these.


The expression of total and utter unamusement on the minion reflects my sentiments exactly. 

5. Let me guess, any attempts today to snuggle your adorable wardens was met with cool indifference? Squirmy disinterest? Yeah well just you try and sneak out of the house later for a coffee. BAM! you’ve got yourself a pair of 25 lb human leg irons. One for each leg if you’re as lucky as I am. Any attempts at escaping with those things on is moot. 

6. Poop graffiti. It’s a real thing. 

7. Cell inspections. Be prepared to have all your personal effects scattered on the floor. They’ll probably steal your stuff too. 

But I think I’ve  just about gotten the elements figured out here in the big house.  They key here is bribery, blackmail and opportunistic distraction. 
This here is Major Beck. I know, he looks tough. But that’s just his exterior…all he needs is a pop tart and you’ve bought yourself enough time to brush your teeth.   

 See? He’s not even looking man…there’s your chance! 


Barbecue potatoe chips and chocolate milk. You might need a connection on the outside to procure these bribery tools…but you won’t be sorry. You’re looking at a cool ten minutes of contentment. 


Watch out for the unicorn though. It’s always watching.  

  The Big Chief. 

Blackmail gold. Level: Expert

I’m apparently  a social media nuisance 

 I have seen the same article circulating the interwebs a lot lately. I’d say this week alone I’ve seen it half a dozen times, and it’s only Tuesday. 

So either it’s a dang good read or someone’s trying to tell me something. The article is titled 5 Questions to Ask Before Posting to Social Media. Here’s the the link if you want to give it a gander for yourself.

What I took away from reading this is that you are only allowed to post about two topics and still remain social media acceptable:

1. Prayer requests

2. Recipes 



I get that there’s some annoying posters out there, and I fully include myself in that category as I post the bajillionth photo of my children today at 9:47 am, but seriously y’all…lets throw each other some bones. 

I have the undeniable blessing of staying home with my kids. Never mind the fact that I hid in the bathroom yesterday and simultaneously cried while I ate my chocolate lunch. But seriously sometimes this is the only way my mom friends and I have to relate to one another during the day. Just because I post that I’m freaking stoked about my vacation doesn’t mean I’m bragging…it means I took a bubble wand to the eyeball last week, my husband and I haven’t had a conversation in months without having miniature limbs in our faces, and the demands of school schedules, pediatrician appointments and baseball has us tired and ready to rest. We’ve been wise and frugal with our finances all year so we could take this vacation and bottom line? We’re excited. 

When my friend, who is a brand new mother, posts a a modest picture of her cradling her sweet new nursing baby I’m not immediately tsk tsk’ing her for sharing private moments…instead I see a new mom relishing those intoxicating moments of brand new motherhood. 

Seriously y’all, we have the power to control our outlooks.

Just because my girlfriend vents about the guy that cut in line at the grocery store doesn’t mean she’s being ungracious or uncaring….it means she lugged her three preschoolers to the store to buy groceries so she could prepare a meal for her husband when he got home from work and some shmuck decided to make an unpleasant experience all the more unpleasant with his rudeness, and by cracky she just needed to tell somebody about it. 

I’m not just talking about stay at home moms here either…working moms have my utmost respect. Honestly I have no idea how they do it. So when they post a picture of their beautiful new minivan or their drool worthy Kate Spade bag, my knee jerk reaction isn’t jealousy…it’s freaking HECK YEAH you work, you manage a house, sports schedules and nurture a relationship with your husband all while helping bread-win for your family…you freaking earned that shiny new swagger wagon. Own it, sista. 

Currently I’m a human recliner 

I think more than asking ourselves questions about how our posts are going to affect everyone else, I think we should ask ourselves why am I reacting this way? 

It’s common sense not to be mean to each other on here, but seriously I’m not all about not sharing my joyous, hilarious, jubilant moments with my friends and family becauseit might annoy or hurt someone’s feelers. That’s something they need to reflect on, not me.