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— 1 — It’s been quite a week. I’m an associate board member for the volunteer board that runs the Twin Cities Birth & Baby Expo–and let me tell you I cannot wait for it to happen this Saturday. As in, tomorrow. Although I’m a mere underling (like an understudy but fewer speaking lines), being able to help put on this thousands and thousands of person event for families to come (for free!) and attend over 40 workshops, meet over 100 exhibitors, all baby & birthing related? AND get a gift bag with swag?? And eat from awesome local food trucks? Yup. I love it. My mom is kind enough to run my craft table for Whole Parenting Goods while BabyLoves and I trot around helping put out (or start?) fires. I haven’t slept very much due to trying to quickly make beautiful things for beautiful people, and do my normal crazy life, and do my expo work. Mama may have been crabby lately. Sorry, kids. Remember, though, even that may not define me? *big grin?* — 2 — My favorite horse show in the whole wide world is this week/weekend at the Minnesota State Fair grounds–the Harvest Show. It was started in the 70’s by my late beloved trainer, Hans Senn, and others. It brings world class talent to the Twin Cities of horses & horse people. I show jumped for years and years and trained countless hours with my beloved four footed friends. Shocker: had to give it…
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Dear fellow mother, You are not defined by your children. Not the number of them. Not the age gap between them. Not their clothing choices. Not the state of their hygiene. Not the contents of their bowl in the morning. Not by how messy their hair is and how they rip out their pony tail holders all the time. You are not defined by your child’s naughty almost humorous meltdown in front of your entire group of older adult guests at a fundraiser. You are not defined by your baby’s eczema on his face that looked as if you’ve never lotioned him up before. You are not defined by your daughter’s low-weight gain, or petite status that looks as if you’re not feeding her enough. You are not defined by your son’s early speech, his quick ability with words, his apparent cleverness that also translates to terrible difficulty with not getting his way (long way to say tantrums). Nor are you defined by your baby’s big size and early movement, Mr. Plank, Mr. Pushup at 4 months, Mr. Scoot Around the Room on his Tummy. You are not defined by your once fashionable eye glasses that are bent and greased out of proportion. You are not defined by your “ironing pile” as in “grab it and quickly iron it before you need it pile” that is shuttered behind a closet door. You are not defined by your garden that never produced herbs this year, or its poorly produced tomatoes. You are…
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I met Monica Welch at the Edel Gathering this past summer. Her beautiful art caught my eye among the many vendors and we chatted for a few minutes. Her warmth just lingered with me so I contacted her and asked if I could interview her for the blog. For you guys. Because I love sharing about wonderful things and wonderful people! She kindly sent me this beautiful personalized piece of art to share about with you! It’s the wedding blessing from the Book of Tobit in watercolor. Hand-drawn text. Such an artist! You can have it personalized for you, too! Here’s the link to it on her shoppe. The kids are obsessed and requested it be in their bathroom. Odd place for it? Why not! They talk about it every single day. And then it’s not in one of their rooms where they could fight about it! We hung it between the windows, dangling down onto the subway tiles. The purples go so well and give the room a super warm loving feel. I love it. They love it. Lots of love here. She’s generously giving one lucky reader any print of their choice AND will personalize it for you. Scroll down for the rafflecopter. —>> Now to listen in on our conversation . . . . Find her on Etsy & Facebook. Tell us about your background and how you came to be an artist. My mom is an artist, and I was raised in a crafty home. I…
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So if you’re pregnant or parenting smallish children and want free information, free courses, free samples, and a chance to check out everything about the parenting world in the Twin Cities, where do you go? Oh did I mention food trucks, face painting, seminars, panels, and yoga? The Twin Cities Birth & Baby Expo, of course! This year it’s held on October 4th, Saturday, 9:30-3pm at the Burroughs School. Come on down. I’m an associate board member this year, and my mom is running a little vendor craft table for me, but this is about more than me and my sewing. Ha. {Jim Gaffigan voice here Why is she always talking about her sewing!? There are free seminars. All day long. In multiple rooms. See presentations & workshop listing here. Some of the ones I am psyched for? Healing Birth Stories! Belly Mapping! Yoga! Better Sleep for You & Baby! Financial Checklist! And literally dozens more. There will be dozens and dozens and more dozens of exhibitors. Full list here. The ones I always love to see? My sweet blog sponsors! See you next weekend! Friends in the Twin Cities, truly, stop on by! Food trucks, face painting, fun kid’s yoga, all great things under one roof!
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— 1 — It’s been too long, Jen & crew! I’m back. Quick taking it. In seven. Really it’s all about the bocce ball. So go here to Bridget talking about taming the toddler instead. Or here to Christy and see what she’s been reading. Britt made pecan pie muffins. I just died from joy. Speaking of death by food, did you know Laurel had a food blog??? //// Back to bocce ball game from h-e-double hockey sticks. My dad plays it every late afternoon with the old geezers in the neighborhood. But when the owner of the set leaves town, he is the keeper. Enter: my children who watch the guys play now get to play. It’s intense. She wants to measure. He wants to measure. He wants both pagnigno (spelling whatever) balls. Imagine their reactions. Imagine the croc tears. — 2 — — 3 — More fighting. I wish I could say his pained expression is fake. It’s real. So much more where that came from. — 4 — She takes off. With the yellow ball. Her fav. Her coveted. Her precious. Insert Gollum here. — 5 — And he wins. He beat himself. Record, really. Those lovely blueberry bushes? Didn’t produce a da*n blueberry this year. We need to recheck our acidity in the soil. Did that sound like I know what I’m talking about? Because I don’t. But overhead AA telling my dad that. — 6 — She was thoroughly unimpressed. — 7 — It…
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My poor little kiddos. The other week we went out of the house and it was a real testament to my motherhood. Did you see the title? That may have tipped you off to where this is going. (We don’t leave all that often, for good reason.) We were at the apple orchard with a group of mama friends, ladies chatting away, and SuperBoy was with his best little buddy, so they were just slipping in and out of tractors, hay mazes, apple trees. I was keeping a vague eye on SweetPea. She’s so wildly adventuresome that I forget she’s not even two and a half. She was puttering around. I had the baby in the carrier and I even felt so brazen as to be balancing an apple cider in one hand and my Lily Jade in another. Oh, me? Just a casual mom of three. I didn’t even bring my stroller today. The kids? Oh, they’re great. I’m so free-range. I’m sure they’re happily organically playing somewhere. She bravely traipsed up one slide and whooshed down. BAM. It was too steep a drop off from the slide to the ground and she whacked her little bum so hard. Down goes the bag, down goes my cider, and I bend over to check for injury. You see, I was standing right there. Right at the bottom of the slide, ushering her, encouraging her. Not spotting her. Way to go, w-w-m (see title? Got it? Good.) Well she recovered and we…
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