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A Pumpkin Patch Photobomb.

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Today we took a trip to Lane Farms for our pumpkins and a great time was had by all Roses.  Emmett gravitated towards the smaller pumpkins, which he preferred because he could hold them up over his head.  His Daddy preferred them because they were significantly cheaper.  Everybody wins!



Husband posing as a Cowboy.  Meow.

Husband posing as a Cowboy. Meow.

Children of the corn.

Children of the corn.

We made it out alive- high five!

We made it out alive- high five!

Screw child labor laws.

Screw child labor laws.


So excited about the tractor ride.  Also, look how well his mouth has healed!

So excited about the tractor ride. Also, look how well his mouth has healed!










So this one time, my kid almost knocked out his front tooth…

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Last weekend Emmett went to a birthday party.  He was so excited to see his friends, and because it was at a kids gym, I knew he would have a blast running around like the wild and crazy boy he is.

I stayed home as I was nursing a sinus infection, and I had just curled up on the couch with a cup of tea when I heard screaming and crying coming from outside.  I knew in an instant that those were my baby’s screams, and I bolted up off the couch and ran outside.

I figured it was a bump on the head or something, so I was not prepared when I saw my hysterical and bloody child.  He’d fallen off something while playing and landed face first on something so hard that it had pushed his front tooth up into his gum and backwards.  My heart dropped into my stomach and for a split second I didn’t know what to do besides hold him as tight as I possibly could.

That moment passed in an instant, and then I calmly asked my husband to start calling every pediatric dentist in town, as well as the ER, while I tried to get a closer look at Emmett’s mouth and calm him down.

The bad news was that we couldn’t get him in to see anyone until the following Monday, but the good news was that within an hour he was laughing and playing, which we took to be a good sign.  After a few days of swelling and bruising, he looks mostly like his old self.  It’s amazing how quickly children bounce back from illness and injury.

We took him to the dentist a couple days ago and they were so amazing  that he actually asked if we could go back the next day.  It’s looking like he won’t lose the tooth, which is great news, but he will likely have crooked teeth until his permanent teeth come in.

I am so incredibly relieved that he’s ok, that he’s probably going to keep his front teeth, and that for the most part he has been unfazed by the entire episode.

So why do I still feel so sad?

I should clarify here: I am not, and never was even for an instant, mad.  Accidents happen, plain and simple.  It’s a shitty situation, but that’s just something that can happen when you put a fearless 3 year old in a padded kiddy gym.

But I am sad.  Sad that my beautiful little boy’s smile won’t be the same.  I know it’s superficial and I’m a terrible person for being sad that my kid’s teeth are a little crooked when children are dying of cancer.  I know this, but I still can’t help feeling a twinge of sadness every time I see him smile.

The Warrior Moms Battalion

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One of the things that helped me get through PPD was writing.  It was scary at first.  Not only was I admitting that I wasn’t well to myself, I was saying it in front of friends, family, and any stranger who happened to find their way to my blog.  Every time I hit the publish button for a new post, I would tense up, fearing judgement from others and feeling shame that I was failing my son and my husband.  

But then a magical thing would happen, right after that full body shiver of terror.  I felt FREE.  Being honest and open about my struggles quickly became an important release for me, and I started blogging more than ever.  I even wrote a guest post on Postpartum Progress, about how my traumatic labor and delivery contributed to my PPD.

Since writing that post, I’ve wanted to get more involved in helping other women struggling with postpartum mood disorders.  I felt compelled to share my story, my successes, and my hopes for the future.  

Earlier this summer I participated in the Climb out of Darkness, a hike celebrating the journey out of the dark hole that is PPD and coming back into the light, once again.  I can not WAIT to do it again next year!  


And now, I’m proud to be a part of the Warrior Moms Battalion, created by Katherine Stone from Postpartum Progress.  Over 200 women are joining together to “combat stigma and raise awareness. We’re going to let the medical community know what we expect and deserve to have happen when we reach out for help.”  

If you’re interested in joining us, you can find out more on the Postpartum Progress website.  

Comforting a cold.

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I don’t know about you, but I’ve always been a comfort eater.  Had a bad day at work?  Here’s a candy bar!  Bad night of sleep?  How about a caramel latte and an apple fritter from Sbux?

So it should really come as no surprise that when I’m sick, I crave comfort foods.  Fortunately, before I’d caught a cold from E-money, I’d made a huge batch of white bean soup.  I modified this recipe from the Food Network, increasing the bacon and serving in a big bowl instead of as an appetizer in a shot glass.  Serve with crumbled goat cheese and slices of crusty french bread.  Perfect for a chilly afternoon or a stuffy nose.

White Bean Soup

We don’t usually eat bread, as Chris is gluten intolerant, so I was trying to think of some creative ways I could use the left overs.  Enter, french toast.   I went to sleep last night dreaming about breakfast, and I was not disappointed.  I just threw together my own custard using an egg, heavy whipping cream, some white sugar and a dash of vanilla.  My recipe is very loosely based on the most magical french toast recipe ever created, by Ina Garten, of course.

I let the slices sit in the mixture for around 10-15 minutes a side, until they were nice and soft.  Next, I fried them in butter and served with hot maple syrup, a side of bacon, and a double espresso with fresh whipped cream.

French Toast

My nose is raw and red, my eyes are watery, and my throat is on fire.  But my belly is full and happy.  So at least there’s that.

Living the Dream.

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Remember me? 

I had to hibernate for awhile.  Shit got real and like the all Cancers, I retreat into my shell when I get overwhelmed.  

Long story short,  I got laid off, and am now a part time stay at home Mom, part time stay at home wife, part time lady of leisure, and part time soon to be small business owner.  

I get to do this all from the comfort of my home, my safe place and sanctuary from the hustle and bustle of the world.  

I get to bleach my stache while writing a blog post.  I AM LIVING THE DREAM I TELL YOU.

More to come…

Rained out.

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Tonight was E’s holiday party at school. Tonight it rained cats and dogs.

You may not think the two would work well together, especially since over 50% of the school grounds are outdoors, but it actually turned out so very wonderful.

The indoor classrooms were packed full of people, little kids, and food. It was hot, crowded, and I knew I had to get out of there immediately. Emmett felt the same way. He asked us, in Emmett speak, if he could play and made a bee line for his favorite spot.

While I was glad to be away from the indoor chaos, it was raining and standing outdoors was not ideal. We tried to get Emmett to stand under an awning with us and even bribed him with food, but he was having none of it. The boy wanted to PLAY.

So we said, to heck with it, go play and be happy! We stood there watching him, with a few other parents who also had die hard players, and I suddenly felt such an overwhelming sense of calm. I felt so present, savoring every moment of the gentle falling rain, my sweet, sweet boy riding his tricycle around the yard shouting, “Yay!” with such genuine glee, and the adorable teddy bear of a man who was standing beside me.

I felt love and peace. And slightly damp.

When ink can change your life.

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I’m sitting on a sheet of crinkly paper, nervous and shaking. The man sitting on the swivel stool below me smiles and says, “It’s just a tattoo, it’s not gonna change your life”.

At the time, it seemed like he was right. My tattoo is tiny and easily hidden, so from the outside, my life would likely stay the same. I realized the man with the large grill on his teeth was right, this probably wasn’t going to be a major life changing event.

But now, a few days later, I’m starting to question this. I feel different inside, in a good way. I did something I NEVER thought I would do, I completely stepped out of my comfort zone (literally and figuratively).

Anchor Foot Tattoo

Last night, I dyed my hair a color Chris describes as “bad girl brown”. I felt the need for more exterior upgrades. I’ve been so focused on fixing things from the inside out, it seemed time to make some changes on the outside as well. A shedding of my skin, so to speak.

So, sorry to prove you wrong Tattoo Man, but this little anchor has changed my life, and I thank you for that.