maisy don’ts.

“I don’ts eat LUNCH!  I eat a lollipop!  Yes!  Maisy do’s eats a lollipop!”



how we come home from the park. 

Sometimes, I take my children to the park.  My children, as with most, would never leave the park.  If they were the ones who decided when we would leave…  well then we’d probably leave when it got dark because they are afraid of shadows.  Man, honesty isn’t always as funny as I’d like it to be.

As such, on most return trips Owen is not into making the walk home.  He’s “indoorsy” and without the shiny prospect of a twisty slide pushing him onward- has little motivation to walk on the actual ground.  Owen rides on the front of our double stroller.  Sure I could wear Henry- but I’m not a human pack mule and sometimes I just don’t want to.  And triple strollers are ridiculous.  So there!!


For your enjoyment I’ve prepared a short picture story:

Maisy: throwing major shade

Henry: squished but indifferent

Owen: *eats cookies*

Maisy: increasingly upset demands aren’t being met in a timely fashion

Henry: fed up with Maisy’s attitude

Owen: *eats cookies*

Maisy: retaliates against Henry

Henry: remains good natured despite assault on hat

Owen: *eats cookies*

And there we have it.  I’ve come home from the park, calves a little more toned from pushing a baby laden stroller.

how to curb your baby fever.

How to curb your baby fever. A list for crazed mothers. 
-look at pictures of yourself 48 weeks pregnant (not a typo) 

-pregnant sex 😑

-lay on your stomach- do you like doing that?  

-stand comfortably 

– do more than one task a day 

-pick something up from the ground 

-go 30 minutes without peeing 

-drink wine 

-sleep through the night 

-throw up in your mouth just for sport

-wonder aloud of 3 children completely destroyed your urethra or if #4 would cause more damage

-if your boobs look like silly putty now, would another baby push them into Old Testament wine skin zone? 

-talk to your 2 year old.  Imagine doing this while throwing up

-throw up

-break into a light jog

-roll over

-hula hoop

-Look at this picture, take a deep breath, go through list again. 

He’s sO SQUISHY!!!!! 

Tantrum Tuesday- Maisy Don’ts 

Maisy is letting me know how much she objects to every facet of my parental guidance with the following utterance: 

Maisy Don’ts! 

It’s great because I never wanted my kids to obey me anyway- so why not disobey in the third person with an improper (verb tense?  Yeah, this grammar is getting a little out of my league).  

Examples as follows: 

“Maisy time to get out of the car”

“Maisy Don’ts!” 

“Maisy, come here!” 

“Maisy Don’ts!” 

You get it.  This will be my regular Tuesday posting until Maisy outgrows this particular phase of disobedience.  (cute as it may be) 

Kaley: plays Simon and garfunkle  

“No!  Maisy Don’ts!” 

avoiding the chores.

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There’s laundry to do.  A lot of it.  At least, there is a lot to put away.  And there are dishes in the sink.  And dishes in the dishwasher.  And kid’s butts to wipe.  There are a lot of butts to wipe.  Also, it is raining.  Netflix is on.  I’m wondering if I should just start a bonfire on the lawn and burn all of the dishes and burn all of my clothes and buy a tiny house to live in on wheels.  But if I lived in a tiny house I couldn’t go to Target, buy unnecessary luxuries, and then trust the many knick knacks in my house to disguise them from my husband.  “Oh those salt shakers?  Well, we’ve always had those.  Their heirloom owl shakers from my Amish ancestors.”

I am thinking about coffee and caffeine and coffee and maybe I should just get up and make the coffee.  Certainly that could give me the desire to make the dinner and do the dishes and put away the laundry and wipe the butts.  Those butts they do not wait for no man.  Maybe though, just maybe, I should glue googly eyes on everything in the house.  Wow, that is INCREDIBLY MORE appealing to me then doing chores.  Okay, I’m going to do that.

Be right back.

Yes.  This was the right choice.

Oh yes.


Founding Father googly eyes- check!

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Take that dirty dishes!  You’ve been googled!


Last, but not least, my googly lil mana-tea.  I see you little guy!  I bet you really can see me now!  Holy peepers!

And last but not least- here is the first picture I took.  I kind of like this one better, but for vanity’s sake I posted the nice one.

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our house. a group project.

There have been rumblings of a minimalist movement across the internet.  They want us to purge, to clean out those things that do not bring us joy, and to simplify.*

Oh my gosh what??  No!  I’m not doing that!  I’m too tired.  I’m about 3 bad life decisions away from having an attic full of cats.  Minimalism is as unachievable for me as fidelity is for Zeus.

Listen, messy people can inspire serenity too.  Lately I’ve been asking some of my mom friends to send me pictures of their real houses.  Let’s just start picturing our messiness as art.  Life art.

We will start our digital art walk in my house.

I call this one “Sculpture du Recycling.”

  I think it speaks to the precarious balance one must maintain… When trying to avoid mundane household tasks.  It’s beautiful because it’s fragile.  #balance

Next we have the interactive art installation: “my kitchen, your kitchen”


If my kitchen is trashed, why wouldn’t your play kitchen be?
Again, who says sculptural art is just for botanical gardens and up and coming city blocks?

I like the juxtaposition of hard and soft here.  The way diffused sunlight is hitting those unfolded baby shorts is making me feel things I haven’t felt in years.  Wow, art can be really powerful.

My sweet friend sent me this gem.

Two hours later she sent me another picture- “wait there’s more now.”

That’s the cool thing about art ya know?  It’s always changing.

And here is a fun piece.

“Loose dry beans let me clean the kitchen”

“but then I have to clean the beans”  

Listen, I don’t want to knock your minimalism.  I think it’s great.  I just can’t/won’t get involved in it.  I like my house to feel like a quirky cottage gone slightly to seed.  Every wall space not taken up with a picture is a wasted opportunity.  Mix.  Match.  Fill.  And that makes me happy.

*What I’m talking about.  


I feel like you guys don’t know Henry very much- and that makes me sad.  I must remedy it immediately because if there is any baby worth knowing- it’s Henry.

Henry is really nice.  When you look at him, he smiles!  To Henry there are no strangers, just friends he hasn’t met yet.  I hate to be conceited but Henry likes me best.  We often lock eyes from far away and smile at each other.

Henry is like a beast.  He’s basically the most advanced baby on earth and spectacularly amazing.  He crawls and planks and sits up and leans and flips over.  He grabs small objects, like my eyelashes, with laser precision.

He sleeps often, easily, and with peace.  Sometimes he doesn’t, but mostly he does and that’s what counts.  Henry’s arch nemesis is his car seat because when he is in it, there is no one to smile at and he can not turn over, which are his two favorite things to do.

Henry really likes to watch kids jumping.  I’m sure he would enjoy adults jumping too, but kids he likes best.  He drools often and with reckless abandon.  He’s the drooliest baby I’ve ever had.

Don’t get me wrong, Henry still cries.  Mostly when he’s pooped in his diaper and hungry and I can’t change his diaper and feed him all at once.  As soon as he eats, back to happy.


I’m not telling you all of this to brag, I just feel like Henry deserves the praise that is due to him.  His joyful happiness has very little to do with me.  I’m very, very blessed.  “Why me?” I wonder as Henry has a day of being completely awesome.  Thanks for letting me be your mom Henry.  You are really cool and nice and you’ll never disobey me.  Right?