“Momma?” She asked from the back seat, with a twinge of trepidation in her voice. “Momma? I don’t have any friends there. I’m a little scared.”

We were doing our semi-regular drive by of her new preschool. The transition from daycare to “big girl school” is going to be the biggest of her three year old life, and I’ve been pushing all the Fun and Good and Happy of it hard.

Because, after all, she’s leaving our wonderful daycare and friends she’s had since she was 8 months old. She’d never really been a “new” kid there. Other kids had come into HER class, not the other way around. She is being taken from her secure place, and plopped into a brand new one with no familiar faces.

Once she put words to her worries, I opened my mouth to reassure her. Of COURSE she’d make friends. That’s how three year olds work, ya’ll. I’ve seen her become “best friends” with someone based on wearing a similar t-shirt, or just by stopping to play with the little girl down the street in her driveway. She will, of course, have friends at her new school.

But just as I was about to launch into my usual “rainbows and sunshine” speech about all of the new friends she would make, and how she’ll still see her old friends when we go to pick up her brother, and etc. etc. and positivity and blah blah blah, something stopped me.

That’s not what she needed.

She needed it to be okay to be scared. She needed to know it’s okay to be vulnerable.

Let’s be clear. I have a hard time with scared & vulnerable.

I am, at my core, a “fake it til ya make it” kind of gal. Uncomfortable situation? Slap a smile on and power through. Unsure of myself? Act like I’m not until others believe it.

I glanced back and saw her eyes meet mine in the mirror, looking at me to guide her through her new feelings and fears.

And I decided to get right on her level.

“You know what baby? I’m scared too.”

And with those words – it all changed.

We talked about how at the same time that she’s starting a new school with new friends, I’ll be starting a new job with new coworkers. And just like her, I wasn’t totally sure what to expect, but I knew one thing we could do.

We could be brave.

Because being brave doesn’t mean pretending you aren’t scared. Being brave doesn’t mean hiding the parts of you that are vulnerable

It means saying, “I’m scared, and I’m still taking this leap.”

Once G and I settled on being brave girls, we worked out a “super secret” signal to send each other when we see each other at school so we know we’re being brave.

A thumbs up.

So thumbs up to you, brave mommas. For serving your families, for making choices every day for your children, for doing So. Many. Things.

Let’s be vulnerable. Let’s be brave.


Summering can be hard, ya’ll.

We’ve officially reached the point where it’s too hot to be outside for a big part of the day, which makes our weekends tough. The sunshine calls to my three year old but the heat is too intense for the baby, so we go outside in spurts…which isn’t really enough to quench my daughter’s desire to roam and run and play.

So we occasionally end up with one of “those” days.

You know those days.

Those days where patience is thin and my tongue is sharper than I’d like. Where there are too many chores and not enough time and my priorities get out of whack.

We had that day recently.

And by 2 p.m., the my three year old and I desperately needed a re-set. We needed something to pull us out of frustration, and tears, and short tempers.

Movie time in Momma’s bed seemed to be the perfect solution.

We settled in, and my wiggly, cuddly big girl threw an arm around my neck and pulled me close to her round little face.

“Momma? I’m going to keep you forever.”

How is it that she knows exactly what my heart needs exactly when it needs it? On a day that my parenting was sub par at best, there she was, choosing me. Keeping me.

I brushed away her curls to kiss her sweet forehead and whispered that I was going to keep her forever, too.

And I mean it. I’m going to keep THIS her, forever. Her pure spirit and silly ways at this age are etched into my heart.

The way her pants are coated in sidewalk chalk at the end of an evening drawing elaborate pictures on the driveway, I’m keeping forever.

The way her face scrunches when she’s trying to figure something puzzling out, I’m keeping forever.

The tender hugs and kisses she gives to her brother, I’m keeping forever.

Her deep belly laugh, her high pitched giggles, and her silly fake laugh, I’m keeping forever.

Sweaty curls and rosy cheeks after a morning at the park, I’m keeping forever.

The countless questions about countless things, I’m keeping forever.

Her emphatic “thumbs up” when she’s trying to make a “good deal” with you (usually bartering for a later bedtime), I’m keeping forever.

The way she turns anything (dirt, pool toys, beach toys, anything!) into pretend food and loves to cook, I’m keeping forever.

I’ve told my husband that there are so many things right now that our kids won’t remember. But what a treasure it is to hold those memories just for us. There’s no one that knows her better right now, and we’ll hold these memories of our precious preschooler forever.

The fact that she wants to keep me, too? That’s just icing on the cake.


Pictures of my children together and looking at the camera are not a thing. What are they looking at here? I don’t know. A squirrel? A single blade of grass? Anything but the crazy lady trying to get your attention for a photo.


As I’ve said in the past, blogging is a winter sport.

I’m posting less frequently for a few reasons:

1. Did you know that summer increases your laundry by 783 percent?

It does. You’d think that all the winter clothes would outweigh the summer clothes but DO NOT BE FOOLED. The dirt my children accumulate on their summer clothes is unreal. Add in swimsuits. And beach towels. And the daily rinsing of my daughter’s shoes because she brings home the ENTIRE sand box in them every day.

Laundry is my second full time job. I want a raise.

2. This kid.

This innocent face is all a ruse.

He’s crawling now. And pulling up. So basically I’m on suicide watch for him from the moment he opens his eyes until the moment I convince him that going to bed is a solid life choice. He’s also putting anything and everything he can find in his mouth which is SUPER fun for all of us considering the number of barbie shoes that end up strewn around the living room floor. Why do all of my three year old’s toys involve teeny tiny pieces? I throw the tiny pieces away on the reg and the multiply when we’re sleeping.

I’ve lamented this on Instagram already, but it’s worth noting again that he took the door stopper OFF THE WALL and was gnawing on it the other day.


It’s fine. I’m fine. I’ve cleaned that thing exactly never. Better for the immune system though, right?


We love summer. We love playing outside til dusk then sending our kids to bed good and exhausted. The result there is that I’m often falling in bed good and exhausted myself.

So for now, HAGS (middle school year books, anyone?) You can keep up with our summer shenanigans on Instagram (my favorite of all the social medias – gimme ALL the pretty pictures!) and sharing things that make me laugh on the internet on Facebook.

I’ll check in again later. Ish.