If they have legs, they will not want to use them. If they have arms, they will not want to have them sunblocked. If they have hands, they will not want to hold yours. If they have a hat, they will not want to wear it. If the whole small mammal house smells like the skunk enclosure exploded, they will

Lately my little family has been going through a rough patch. My husband got laid off from his job, and our schedules have been reworked like Play Dough as a result. Our family vacation was booked for later this month, but with the layoff, there went the availability of paid time off, or the ability to be gone from a

Is it too much to ask that y’all take good photos of us once in a while?  We all want to stay in the photos, but quite frankly, not only do I want to be in photos with my child (this seems like a bare minimum request, by the way) but I’d also like to look back on photos and

Jaws. JK JK JK!  Okay, in all seriousness, if screen time isn’t your thing, that’s totally understandable.  However, if you find yourself under a baby (and possibly stuck) and wish to partake of some film-y indulgence, I’ve got some recommendations.  *cracks knuckles* Firstly, these are all available streaming on Netflix, because you’re stuck under a baby and aren’t going to

First of all, let me get this out of the way: this isn’t one of those articles that’s all like, don’t buy your kid any birthday presents and pocket all that cash for college!  The amount of birthday presents I buy my child (or Christmas presents, or Easter basket chocolates, etc) wouldn’t buy a single semester’s worth of textbooks, let

Oh, my sweet summer child server. We were snugly seated in the open-til-midnight diner booth’s waxy, glittery seats, bemoaning the endlessness and non-ecstasies of motherhood’s sleeplessness.  We meaning, in this case, myself and two mom friends.  We’d just ordered our milkshakes (essential) and tots (more essential) and diet cokes (most essential-est) and were beginning the night with some good-natured moaning

I’ll admit, this is one of my favorite blog posts to write, because I feel like I get to be chatty and talk about the little things.  So, if we were grabbing coffee together right now, I’d tell you that watching my almost-three-year-old daughter blossom into a real little person is one of the biggest joys of my life right

I am not my daughter’s favorite. This is not something that’s new, or something that seems to be a phase (from my vantage-point). And I’d be lying if I said it’s just a Moment in Time and that surely (surely, please) I will be her favorite eventually. It is a low-down gritty hard-scrabbling difficult thing to consistently find yourself sidelined

Sometimes I feel like being on vacation with a toddler is like being on the road with a tiny Jack Kerouac. It’s fun and great and mystical and magical and also you’re always wondering, are they high, or really high, or drunk, or what? And you’re just trying to make sense of it. It’s not bad, but holy moly, it’s….it’s