Artist by trade, professional homemaker/mother by choice. And by “professional” I mean paid in frozen yogurt and rugrat hugs. I am a believer in the power of creating things by hand and giving my kids opportunities to do the same – even if glitter in the carpet does make me wince. My days are a perpetual balancing act between my desire to “make neat stuff” and the demands of a military way of life. I pride myself on handling power tools alone, baking a mean batch of peanut butter cookies, knowing a bargain when I see one, wielding a sailboat against a breezy afternoon, and being a fiercely loyal friend. I also love Jesus, a lot. This blog is a landing zone for all the ideas and stories that would otherwise keep my brain up past it’s bedtime.
My husband of 12 years and second to none. My biggest fan, steadfast provider, and passionate protector. Through lush times and lean, life with this man has been one crazy amazing adventure. Love is a choice and I’m so glad he chose me.
SONGBIRD and BUG
My two little experiments in the art of raising humans.
Not their real names, but fitting nonetheless.
Songbird’s life is a musical with few moments void of humming, twirling, and imaginative flair. She even sings in her sleep. Willing to try almost anything once and with a voracious appetite for learning, she daily inspires me with her ability to see beauty in the ordinary and a tender heart bursting with compassion. She also never passes on the opportunity for a “silly face” photo op.
Bug is my happy-go-lucky guy. A budding conversationalist and lover of all things loud. If it has wheels and goes fast, he wants to be a part of it. Ironically, he’s also my more reserved child. You’ll never catch him in a one-piece outfit, as a finger in the navel is his preferred comfort mechanism. King of the snuggle-bugs, his hugs drown out any misgivings I have about “doing it all wrong.”
GREY HOUSE HARBOR
We live in a house. It’s grey. Shocker, I know…
This blog is the true story of my adventures in making that house our home – in both literal and intangible ways.
Regardless of how far we travel or what the world hands us outside these walls, my hope is that once we step across that threshold we feel safe. Safe to try new things, speak our minds, dream big, and make mistakes knowing we will be forgiven and loved unconditionally.
It’s not really about the house, but rather what happens within that makes it our safe harbor.
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