Saturday, December 14, 2013


I am thankful.

Thankful for our time together. I feel like It isn't popular these days to say so but I am so blessed to be home with you. I work on evenings and weekends- I miss bedtimes and sometimes wake up at the crack of dawn or stay awake all night long. I miss a whole day during the week and we make it work, Daddy and I, but I am thankful that those times are few and far between. I am thankful that you are home with your mother and father. You are safe and secure. You are well rested and well-fed. You are a wonderful happy little boy and I love that you are growing up in your home. I don't want to miss your days and weeks. I don't want to miss you 40 hours. I am not built that way. I love working. I love cable. I love new clothes, a nice gym, and eating out. But I love you more. I love you more than the lifestyle I became accustomed to. I love you more than a big house. I love you more than my career. I am happiest with your arms around my neck and I am happier with a less is more mentality. I never predicted we could cut our budget enough, we could strech far enough, and close in. 

Close. Together. Family.

Friday, October 4, 2013


i like to make you laugh... really laugh, at least once, every single day.

i think about what it would be like to grow up with a memory of life like that... every single day there was laughter.

it started somewhere about 2 months when i was singing a made up song about diaper changes and your smile turned into a giggle that became full on rolling laughter. 

you surprised me. it was simple joy. exploded. it was that kind of moment when tinker bell was born.

i want to remember that moment for the

it became very clear that my new mission in life was Laughter. not just anyone's... but yours.

most of the time it just sneaks up on me when i was doing something unintentionally but i also actively try to "check it off the list" and if every once in a while the whole day goes by without it happening for some reason or another, i find a way to fit it in so it happens before bed time. sometimes it's a noise i make, a song i sing, a surprise game of peekaboo, a book i read, when i pretended the washcloth dog was talking to you or the green beans were a mustache or the way one little piggy always goes all the way home..... but to you, i've learned, i'm funny. 

and to me, you're our whole world.

p.s. that piggy going wee wee wee all the way home is my fail safe....

Tuesday, October 1, 2013

compelled to write

for as long as i can remember, i've written. i traced over the cursive letters in the back on my spelling book. i re-wrote anne of green gables by hand so i could feel what it was like to write a 'real book'. i crafted poems on the weekend and i spent a summer co-writing a novel for fun with my best friend.... trading the notebook back and forth.

then i read 'diary of a young girl'- i was 10 and i thought she was on to something.

it all started with Anne... and Lisa Frank.

there were bright characters- hot pink, purple, and lock on the cover. i kept the key under my pillow.
it was my first diary and i have kept one ever since.

what can i say...

a blank page entices me
the whiteness...the empty of it all...
a blinking cursor beacons me
like the blinking lighthouse in a storm
in the empty is Open.
is inspiration.

i had a place for years. with a door and wreath and a welcome sign. but then i didn't think it was the right room.

my mind is always drafting. revising. revisiting.

words put down are never finished. but they are out of me. they are memories and moments recorded. and for 4 years i chose to record them there. the most beautiful time of my life was captured in the confounds of ... so now we're old friends, blogger and i.

and like most friendships, over time, some aspects of the personality settle better with you than others.

i dont want to watermark my photos. i dont want to be catfish bait in a huge pond.

i don't want to pay a monthly fee.

i don't want to write the way i am supposed to. or what i am supposed to write about.

i dont want to sell merchandise or monetize.

I Just Want To Write Words.

i want to write to him.
to them both.
to whoever is to come.

and i want to do it for me. so i remember. so i record. so i express. i am compelled. i am a writer.

i write about what fills my soul....

the smile on Graham's face when i come home.

the way the sun danced off the fall leaves today. the three of us on the bare grass, exploring the way leaves crinkle and twist, knees and elbows avoiding little rough spots the summer lawn furniture left behind.

i dont need pinteresting posts because pinterest is a place for ideas. i don't want to be an Idea.

i want to have something that is quiet, seen but not heard.

i want a place where i have thoughts for them and a place i can share with you.

dear, sweet, You....every writer wants a reader.

that is the difference between a blog and a diary. i don't want the lock on the cover any more. i don't want to hide the key. i like knowing you're there sometimes. you, beautiful you, who found me amongst the ashes of my former blog. you, who asked me to keep writing. you, who said you like following along with our little family.

your connection inspires me. your welcome here any time.

this space is for both of us.

thank you for stopping by.