Today was Thursday.
Today was good.

Today was Halloween. (Do notice that Alice's "costume" layered over her tee is my favorite kid-vintage thing I've ever wandered into -- a perfect yellow party dress with a crinoline underneath. I'm hoping very much that it still fits her on her third birthday.)


Today was Christmas.


No, not just Christmas. According to Clark today was, "THE BEST CHRISTMAS EVER!" Because he got an Uglydoll book. That he (obviously) already had.


Today my baby took two decent naps.


Today I rearranged my china cabinet.


Today I used my camera. I have given up, temporarily, on the idea of replacing it with a nicer one that doesn't give me error codes. I don't have the money. But that's okay. I have this.


I am going to take more photos in March. And rearrange more shelves. And maybe even celebrate more holidays, again. I could use a do-over on Thanksgiving.



Clark loves this song.

He calls it "Baby's First Fireworks" and sings it in the car.  "Baby's first fireworks, come on let your colors burst!"  He is absolutely one hundred percent a firework.  And I could not love him more.  There is more I could say about this but I don't have the energy.  I take a lot of deep breaths about Clark every day.

Happy new week, friends.  February is almost over.  (Can you believe it?) Today I spent time with Katy and Emily and I feel so much better than I did last month at this time.  I am ready for March.  I am ready for April, May, and June.  I am ready for July.



When I look at people, I see right through them.

People.  Oh people.  People are everything.   People put on a show.  People say the wrong things with good intentions and the right things with no feeling.  People care.  People want to be the best version of their own self, but maybe have forgotten how or maybe the person who was shining that light on them went off to sea or maybe it's just too much work.

People have joy that can visibly radiate.  People suffer.  People don't like to talk about it.

People create and destroy and copy.  Oh, do people copy.  People are afraid and muddied up and try on lots of hats, hiding from their own beautiful bones.  Bones and baggage.  Baggage that is maybe more like a apron lined with tiny pockets, mistakes and heartbreak tucked neatly into them.  Other people can't see it, but it's there. And it changes everything.  It is what makes people people.

You are people.

I am people too.

And I don't envy any of us and I'm so glad we are all here.

photo via blauwe ballon

This isn't at all what I sat down to write about.  I wonder why my fingers typed it.


Erin is cool and I love her

Here are a few of the many reasons why:

10.)  While watching the Super Bowl this commercial reminded me of us.

9.)  She's not political... which is refreshing.

8.)  She saved us about $5000 by giving birth at home.  Clutch. 

7.)  She likes great food and having a great time. 

6.)  Redheads are statistically quite rare.

5.)  We like the same weird crap.  

4.)  Watching her try to make a decision is always fun.  

3.)  There’s no need to guess what she’ll be rocking at the beach this summer.

2.)  She is so cool she won’t even mind that I also used this song in my Marvin Harrison tribute.    

1.)   She is the Peyton Manning of parenting.  

Happy Valentine's Day, Erin!  

Love your husband, Luke.

Erin's notes: I DON'T LIKE APPLEBEE'S!  This is how he jokes, people!  And number three, what even is that?  Star Wars. . . swimwear??? And be sure to watch the whole skit linked to number four because Portlandia is my new favorite show and I had to watch the whole thing twice before hitting publish just because I couldn't help myself.  And I refuse to even jokingly call the Peter Pan ride "weird" -- that shit is magical.  Happy Valentine's Day Luke.  You are funny.


feel better

Do you ever get in that bad place where nothing sounds good?

Where your brain is screaming and feels all folded up inside? Caffeine would feel bad. Alcohol would feel bad. Food would feel bad. Sleep would feel bad or maybe it would feel good for a minute but you know it would just feel extra bad, ultimately?

I have felt like that for awhile now, with the worst in the last five days or so. The baby has been having a hard time at night, not wanting to nurse or sleep or cuddle or anything but stand upright on me and bounce, for hours. Like, from the hours of 1-4, when I have just fallen asleep for the night, and then he wakes up at 6 and is awake for the day. I am sure this is a phase and at least partly because when I consume dairy it bothers his stomach, but I've been getting lazier and lazier with my diet and cheating too much. I feel awful for him. I will not cheat anymore.

Walking around the house just now, I felt very nearly like crying out. What do I do to feel better? I don't want someone to help me. I don't want a break or a new outfit or a treat. I just want to be back on my game. I want to feel better. I reached up and grabbed the door frame, absentmindedly, and stretched out and then the sun started shining through our back window onto my face and I felt warm, warm from the sun, for the first time in months. Warm from the sun, warm from the sun, I wanted to feel warm from the sun. And as I stretched there I felt like a kitten or a responsible person who does yoga or a kid. And it felt better than a haircut or a date-night or a cup of coffee with real cream.

reality, today


some thing

I forced myself to sew something because I wanted to see if I could do it.  I bought a sewing machine and found a ratty thrift store dress in the back of Alice's closet and turned it inside out.  Then I cut shapes that vaguely looked like the shapes puzzled together inside of that inside-out dress but I cut them a little bigger because the inside-out dress is a size too small.  I didn't measure anything or cut things straight.  I didn't turn on a brighter light, even though I should have and my eyes hurt.  I didn't google how to sew a dress or read a book or ask my mom.  I don't know what exactly I was trying to prove to myself.  I don't know.  I just felt this strong desire to see what happened.  If all my messy pieces turned into a thing, or stayed scraps of nothing.  Like, you know, how a  scrap of fabric is not a thing but a scrap of fabric strung onto a garland with six other scraps of fabric is totally a thing?

So Alice has a dress now. It looks just like the chairs in our kitchen because I made it out of the left over seat-cover fabric.  The hem is uneven and crazy.  The stitches aren't straight at all, and I did them in the wrong places and I didn't know how to make a closure so I just made a great big V in the back so I could get it over her head. A great big V that I didn't measure or trace, I just free-hand cut out with a pair of dull scissors. There are threads sticking out everywhere.  It looks a little like a home-ec project.

I'm kind of on the fence about it.


I think it is a thing.





And now that that is done, I wonder if I'll ever feel like using the sewing machine again?


from the mountaintop

This is supposed to be "the big one."  As in, the big storm.  The crazy one.  "Expect to be without power!" the weather man said.  "You'll be talking about this in 20 years!  Downed power lines!  And trees!  2 inches of ice, everywhere!"

You know what I bought at the store today?  Two gallons of milk and cleaning supplies. I didn't read all of the scary weather man quotes until I got home. 

So tomorrow morning my husband will wake up extra early and find a way to unfreeze his truck and drive to work, because that's what he does.  I am going to get iced inside of my home with three very small children, possibly without power or heat, and, apparently, clean the house.  And drink milk.  

Pray for me.

(No, seriously.)

If I squint really hard I can pretend I'm there instead.