Casey started playing this game where you had to run away from a pretend monster before he gets you. And one time when Dan was playing he named the monster “Mr. Play Dough Head” (for whatever reason). But it stuck and that became the game, running away from Mr. Play Dough Head. Then one night I left Casey alone in the kitchen to wash my hands and he started screaming bloody murder. When I came back he was crying and shaking. I frantically asked what was wrong and he said, “Mr. Play Dough Head is going to eat me!” So at some point Casey decided this was no longer a game, this was now a real threat in our house. And that’s how my poor two year old developed a Mr. Play Dough Head phobia.
ME: It’s fall! Do you know what that means? Do you know what’s going to happen soon?
JACK: Yeah, that’s when you drive over the spikes and the wheels pop and we crash.
ME: wtf … I was gonna say Halloween.
CASEY: I’m a dog. Woof woof. I like to taste you. *licks my arm*
Jack was walking around slowly with his head tilted backward.
DAN: What are you doing, buddy? Are you pretending to be a zombie?
JACK: No. I’m just lookin’ at the air.
CASEY: Can you take this band-aid off my banana? *points to the sticker*
DAN: There’s a dragonfly on that branch. Can you see?
JACK: Yeah, I can see everything. I have two eyes.
Everyone else at Chase Field: *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap* LET’S GO D-BACKS!
My two year old: *clap, clap, clap-clap-clap* LET’S GO PEE PANTS!
JACK: Hey Mom, do you know all the coconuts?
ME: … what?
JACK: Like this *singing* Tell me the coconuts. Tell me the coconuts. Tell me the coconuts now… South America, North America, Central America too…
ME: … do you mean “continents”?
JACK: No, it’s just at school.
We put Casey forward facing in the van and now he backseat drives like no bodies business.
CASEY: GREEN MEANS GO, MOM. DRIVE. … see? I helped you.
I was playing with Jack when suddenly he gently brushed my hair behind my ear.
I’m sharing this story on the request of my mother, who wanted me to write it down.
Sometimes as a mom you feel like your efforts are fruitless. And I mean that. You try and try and try to get a certain thing through and you don’t see any movement at all. It can make it really difficult to keep pressing forward. For example, some days I feel over the top trying to get my boys to express their emotions and deal with them in a healthy way. And I felt like nothing was seeking in.
Well, I got lucky. One day, I got to see the payoff.
I was having a hard day. Trying to get my two year old to eat is like trying to stick the wrong end of two magnets together. It’s just NOT going to happen somedays. So I was trying and trying and trying and somehow during the shuffle a full glass of juice got knocked onto the floor. CRASH SPLASH!
I could feel myself on the verge of exploding. But I FORCED myself to be that freaking mom from Daniel Tiger and make my emotions clear but soft. I said, “I’m feeling very mad and I need to take a time out in my room!”
And then I left into my bedroom to cry.
It was quiet in the kitchen. Very quiet. And then suddenly I heard little feet shuffling and the pantry door open. Meanwhile, the bedroom door creaked open and my two-year-old sat on my lap. He put his hands gently on my cheeks and I heard my own words come back to me.
“Are you sad, Mommy? It helps to say it. You can say it, you can say, ‘I’m sad’.”
Through my tears I blurted out, “I’m sad.” And then I surprised myself by adding, “Mommy’s sad because Daddy is gone at work all day and Mommy is so tired.”
!!! I didn’t even know that’s why I was overwhelmed until my two-year-old got me to say it!
He then told me that I needed a ‘sad song” and began to sing it. ‘The sad song’ is a song that I invented and sing to my boys when they cry. These are the words:
It’s okay to be sad.
It’s okay to be mad.
But if you scream, hurt or throw that’s bad.
So put your hand on your heart,
And count to four really slow.
One… two… three… four
Now, quick! Tell me what color is your toe!
Hahaha! I don’t know. But it DID make me feel better! I had stopped crying. I went back into the kitchen where I found my actual four-year-old, MOPPING UP THE JUICE with a Swiffer! I probably started crying again. Jack put the mop away. And then suddenly, Casey was eating his lunch.
I guess the moral of the story is that you never know your impact. Most of the time, you feel like you don’t have ANY impact at all. But you really do! They remember what you say and how you act. My boys knew EXACTLY what to do for me when I was sad and it meant all the world to me.
1997/1998 I was seven years old and BIG on mysteries. I was completely hooked on Scooby-Doo. I checked out a lot of Hardy Boys from the library. It was totally my jam. So I created my OWN Sherlock-Holmes-type detective called Detective Big Nose and wrote a series. I hope you enjoy.
Join me next month for another installment of Detective Big Nose.
I had a really weird experience the other day and decided to write about it. It might seem small or dumb, but bear with me here!
I was playing Uno with my kids, which requires a healthy amount of card shuffling between each game. … Now, I’ve never been able to shuffle. Since I was a kid, I would just kind of mix up the cards. Spread ‘em around on the ground. Or just give them to someone else! But something weird happened in my brain when I was playing with my kids. I thought
I’m going to try to shuffle these cards.
And I did it perfectly without hesitation. Shhhhhhffffft. I could even do the bridge. Fwwffffftttt.
That blew my mind. Because here I was, a woman on the cusp of thirty-one years old. And all my life I had been actively TELLING MYSELF that I did not know how to shuffle cards. I had NEVER TRIED TO SHUFFLE A DECK OF CARDS. I was just telling myself not to do it and that I didn’t know how. But I never once split a deck and actually tried to do it.
I cannot tell you how freaky this experience was for me. It was like The Truman Show. My whole reality is in question now. What else have I been telling myself I can’t do??? What else have I been telling myself I don’t enjoy? What else have I been telling myself “that’s bad”.
So that’s it. Deconstruct your Truman Show set! You can do whatever you want! You can like whatever you want! You can be you! That is all! I love you
ME: (making a dumb Dad Joke) What do you want to do, Dizzy?
CASEY: I want to go to Dizzy-land!
Lately Casey has been calling Jack, “my Jack”. Like, “Where is my Jack?” “There’s my Jack! My Jack is back!” He also has been insisting that they wear the same color of shirt everyday. So today, when he saw Jack was wearing a red shirt, he demanded to be changed out of his blue shirt.
CASEY: I don’t match my Jack! No, I need to match my Jack!
A wasp landed on Jack Heroically, Dan swatted it away.
JACK: No I wanted him! He liked me!
We went on a hike and my two-year-old starting singing aloud every single thing that was happening.
CASEY: (cheerful singing) There’s lots of sand. And lots of mud. I’m farting. I farted and mommy laughed.
The boys caught a cold.
ME: (checking in) How are you feeling?
JACK: I feel better.
CASEY: I feel cough.
On the same note. Casey’s cough worsened, which always aggravates his sensitive gag reflex. After the grossest sounding cough turned hacking gag/possible slight puke, he turns to me and very calmly and politely says
CASEY: I have a little cough.
JACK: Cock and nuts?
ME: That’s definitely not how you pronounce it…
A while ago, I wrote about Jack mispronouncing the word “freckle”. The other day, Dan and I learned that Casey calls it “a peckle”. And this is my official petition to change the word freckle to peckle.
One of my closest friends adores New York more than anywhere else in the world. And he ALWAYS would tell me with such confidence how I would love it too. How I “belong in New York” and how I would “fit there so well”.
At thirty years old I had never been there! I wasn’t sure about “belonging” in New York, but knew it fit a lot of my special interests. The big publishing houses, Broadway, Ghostbusters. Plus New York was also once the home of two of my favorite hairy island transplants… King Kong AND John Lennon.
So when I mentioned to my parents a desire to go there, my dad started joking that he would use his sky miles to whisk me away there some weekend. Which I never ever thought would ACTUALLY happen.
Daniel had this miraculous day off work in the summer. And we were racking our brains trying to think of what family vacation we wanted to do. San Diego is only a five hour drive, but we knew the beach would be PACKED on the weekend and a lot of things were limited due to COVID.
Traveling with two little kids can be pretty rough. And it was tricky trying to come up with somewhere cool to go that the boys would also enjoy. So one night when we were discussing possible plans, Dan asked me where I would choose to go, if the kids weren’t a factor at all.
I told him about the weird NYC joke with my dad and he was like, “well… do you think your dad is busy the last weekend of July??”
I didn’t think he would be available with his hyper busy schedule, but it turned out HE WAS! Our joke suddenly turned into a real actual plan! We would instead take the boys to The Great Wolf Lodge in the fall (which is Jack’s dream anyway) and I would go with just my dad to New York for an early birthday present!
The first day was a travel day and almost nothing else. A four-hour flight plus time change equals all day haha. My dad had gotten us upgraded to first class and it was incredible! Each seat was like its own little cubicle where you can lay down the seat like a bed and have all this space around you. (I sincerely hope someone reads this in the future and laughs because all the airplane seats have become like this)
Anyway, it was a very swanky trip in. Swanky first-class seats, swanky hotel, swanky upgrade in the hotel and we even ended up walking to a swanky restaurant.
The restaurant was funny because my Dad and I were totally out of our element in our disheveled travel clothes. I was wearing leggings and a Back to the Future tee shirt… at a super expensive restaurant off Madison Avenue. It’s not that we knew we were going to end up there. We just walked the street and popped into a random place and then once they pulled the chairs out for us and handed us the menu with the prices it was too late lol. But I had a really, really good shrimp risotto and a crème brûlée at the end. My dad had a less fortunate clam and mussel pasta and we both agreed that we should have gone to the Mediterranean place around the corner.
That night my dad and I stayed up and talked into the night. Late night conversations are my ultimate love language, because that’s when you really get a chance to share your deepest thoughts or dumbest jokes.
The next morning we decided to walk somewhere for breakfast. We were going to hail a cab, but on Sunday morning the streets were very quiet (which I loved!) so we walked the twenty minutes. Not even halfway through we got caught in a sudden rain (which I also loved to be honest). It was all magical to me.
I was surprised how quickly I had fallen in love with New York City. I don’t know what kind of an expectation I had, but this place definitely exceeded them. I really thought it was a bunch of gray rectangular buildings with ordinary rectangular windows. Sort of like how they always cartoonize New York. But that is NOT true. Every single separate building is an architectural wonder. The stonework, the small details. You really have to be THERE out on the street to see how cool New York is. So many movies have used New York City as a backdrop that I had become desensitized to its coolness. Thinking “oh, this is like a set”. But then when you’re out there on the streets walking around with your jaw hanging open, you’re going “wow!! This is like a set.”
I remembered what my friend had said about me “fitting into New York” which made me snort and roll my eyes. I was wearing a jumper dress I bought from Walmart with my black opaque tights and light gray tennies. I did not FEEL like I “fit in” walking past the Armani, Louis Vuitton and Versace stores.
After breakfast we walked around anywhere we felt like! Times Square, FAO Schwartz, Rockefeller…
This is my all-time FAVORITE style of vacationing. No itinerary. No big all-day tourist activities. Just exploration in it’s purest sense. Walking the streets! Seeing the steam rise from the sewer grates (whaaaaat? I thought that was a dramatic movie effect, I didn’t know that was a real thing!) I know that style of traveling is not for everyone… but it’s definitely for me! To be carried and moved by the environment. Being present in the entirety of your destination. I was thrilled that my dad was on the same page as me! To be explorers together and do whatever we wanted in the moment it called for.
We were pretty exhausted by the time we got back to the hotel. My body was immediately messed up trying to switch to East Coast time. So I took a nap even though it was like ten AM.
When I woke up, I felt a lot more energized and happy again. We decided to go to Central Park. I had no idea how Central Park would be. And it turns out it’s the best place in the whole frickin’ world hahaha!
Dad and I got a hot dog and sat on a bench to people watch. (And it was a good hot dog too!) Then we got up and walked around and it was an *amazing* place. There was live music all around, people performing, dancers practicing in the fields. I overheard a lot of writers talking to their editors/publishers on the phone.
That’s when I got it. What my friend was saying about me fitting in there. It was something that I never really agreed with him about before, because I thought of New York as this stiff business empire for the super wealthy. But it’s a hot spot for fellow artsy farts! And just apart from the people. The environment in Central Park specifically was SO meaningful to me. The metaphor of it. That this giant and crazy busy city, wanted to carve a chunk out for nature and respite.
It’s really so great. I guess I thought it was going to be a normal park. Not like… an entire town-size of beautification! The birds come right up to your feet when you sit down. There are SO many fat squirrels running around. And I bent down and called out to one and it ran to me like it was a dog! I started crying. Literally. I was so happy to be there that I started crying.
We walked to Strawberry Fields and there were TONS of people there. Sitting and listening to a nearby street musician singing John Lennon’s songs. And some of them were crying.
We walked across the street to The Dakota and saw the entrance where John was shot. (kind of eerie knowing you’re standing where someone was murdered. Even if it was 40 years ago.)
Suddenly Dad and I were thrown into a deep and beautiful conversation about death and the gospel. (Right there in front of The Dakota). It was an impactful moment for me. That (and the whole trip) really made me realize how similar my dad and I are. And our views and feelings on things.
We walked a little ways to an ice cream shop that supposedly sold “Kraft macaroni and cheese ice cream”. They were sold out if you can believe it. So I had chocolate fudge brownie instead. Oh, darn. Haha! Then we saw a spot from You’ve Got Mail and circled back around The Dakota to Central Park again.
Dad and I continued walking around the park and I fell more hopelessly in love with it. Central Park was now one of my new favorite memories.
Later that evening we decided to go to Little Italy and eat at a 100-year-old restaurant called “Puglia’s”. Little Italy was amazingly beautiful! And I’m so glad that we took time to go!
Puglia’s was the exact opposite of the fancy shcmancy place we had dinner at the night before. It was very LOUD. We sat at a table with another group of people. Everyone was laughing and yelling at each other. The waiters were pretty casual. It felt like I was suddenly adopted into a HUGE Italian family and was at a reunion with all my cousins or something. That’s honestly what that restaurant felt like!
Then just when I thought it was not physically possible to get any louder. An older couple came out and started performing. The entire restaurant started sing-yelling along! And half of the patrons got up on the tables and waved their napkins. It was so chaotic and fun. You couldn’t help but sing along and dance yourself.
After dinner, we walked around Little Italy, got a gelato and then wandered around trying to hail a cab to get us back to our hotel.
Monday morning we had room service and lounged around in our comfy Pierre robes.
We decided that we would do one “touristy” thing on our trip and both agreed on The Empire State Building. We went all the way up to the 102nd floor! The little ball thingy on the tower. It was very impressive and scary looking down at the already super tall buildings of New York. The little dots of the birds flying down there. I cannot believe they were up here in the 30s building this high with no harnesses riveting on a narrow beam. WHY? WHAT?
After the Empire State we had pizza, walked St. Mark’s Place and visited the famous “Strands Bookstore”. And just like any other bookstore I had an armful of books to buy within only thirty seconds of being there. So we had to leave pretty soon after that or else I wouldn’t have been able to lug my suitcase through the airport.
We stopped at a diner and over some famous NY cheesecake, we talked about life. Impostor syndrome and the gospel and confidence in ourselves. And I saw that this trip was meant in part for that conversation and every conversation that I had with my dad. I have never and probably will never have that kind of extensive time with him to hear his feelings and thoughts about such deep and meaningful things. And its a beyond precious memory that I will always have of my father throughout my life.
We finished our cheesecake and before turning back in for the night, I asked if we could just walk into Central Park one last time. My beloved, wonderful Central Park. So we took a taxi to the entrance by the plaza and walked a ways into it before settling on a bench.
As the sun sank behind the skyscrapers, the fat squirrels cleared out of the fields and were replaced by sparkling fireflies. My dad and I had more deep and important talks. And I wondered and ached for when I would ever be able to come back to this city I had fallen head over heels for.
I wish I knew how to sum up this trip in writing. I’m not joking when I said I cried of happiness in Central Park. Or how desperately meaningful it was to me to have a father who would be willing to have such a bonding moment and adventure between the two of us. I really saw this whole trip as such a deep act of love.
If (I mean when) I go back to New York City, here’s what I’m going to do differently. I’m going to dedicate an entire day or maybe even two to Central Park. We walked 20,000 steps that first day and I only ever saw the bottom third of Central Park. I didn’t see Century Gardens, or Shakespeare Gardens. We didn’t go inside the zoo. I know there’s a castle! So probably when I go back it will be a trip to the park for me HAHAHAHA.
Little Italy is a place worth visiting again. I would probably pick another “one touristy thing” again. Either ride the boat around the Statue of Liberty or spend some time at the 9/11 memorial. I should also mention that Broadway was still closed due to the pandemic, so I would see a show the next time around.
I already know that if my dad could have changed anything he would have wanted my mom there. I wouldn’t mind going back with Daniel or my mom. My kids if they were a little older.
It’s that time of the month again, where we dive into my childhood and drag back a piece of writing as early as it can be.
At estimated five-years-old I clearly remember making this story. I was sitting in church and I painstakingly drew each page with the exact words in mind. Then hired my mom as scribe and put my “first ever book” together!
There you go. I hope you enjoyed my Kindergarten humblebrag from back in the day. Haha!
The whole tag line of the show is “Can you love someone based on PERSONALITY ALONE?” I literally can’t make it through hearing that tag line without laughing. I cackled as I wrote it just now. Cackled like the witch I apparently am.
Yeah, so, the premise is that these good looking people go on dates with each other under the guise of some weird goofy SFX makeup. And see if they can actually connect without knowing the other person is an aesthetically pleasing human… (even though they definitely know the other person is hot because this is Netflix and casting don’t play.)
I mean look at this. This is a beaver. (Which I think is the best worst episode by the way)
And this… dolphin.
So I’m sitting there having a good time and a good laugh, when suddenly I’m watching the finale…
AND MY OWN DANG FACE SHOWS UP AS ONE OF THE MASKS
How? Why? How? How does this happen, Netflix? Netflix, where you at? How did you let this happen? Why?
I mean nothing’s more of a self esteem crusher than that. A reality television show that is LITERALLY about people wearing HIDEOUS MASKS to conceal their real beauty. And the HIDEOUS MASK looks exactly like your own damn face. I really don’t know what the thought process was here. In the board meeting the producers were like… “Okay, episode ten… Rooster. Praying Mantis. Fawn. And 30 year old mom of two in speckled green.”
There were so many ways the make up artist could have taken this. And no. NO. A make up artist literally went Hmmm… this is exactly what an ugly witch would look like.
And BTW, way to out me as a witch, Netflix. I was keeping my dark sorcery under wraps but OKAY. NOW EVERYONE KNOWS.
I just came here to have a good time. I came here to watch some shallow people pretend to have a love connection. I didn’t come here to be insulted and BULLIED like this!
I mean is this just my insecure a$$ or is this UNCANNY WTF. Should I sue????
So I tried to calm down and I was like alright, well maybe the makeup artist didn’t do that great of a job hiding what she looks like in real life and when they reveal her she’ll look like my better looking twin…
NOPE MY FEELINGS ARE HURT
You know what would have been better? If they did the whole big reveal AND IT WAS LITERALLY JUST ME. The guy would be like oh… so… wait, that was actually you’re face? Because I thought…
I’m going back into my lair now. But now that my identity has been revealed, potions and curses available for sale. Special on all eye of newt related products. Contact me if you too are interested in becoming an UGLY WICKED BOSS BABE. Work your own hours. Build your own client base. Unlock spells and abilities as you level up in the coven.
ME: Hold on, I gotta get dressed before we go swimming.
JACK: It’s not called a dress It’s called a swimming suit
Meanwhile Casey is over here calling his a “swim soup”
Every time Casey finishes a book he enthusiastically calls out “AMEN!” instead of “The End”.
So my husband passionately hates Sour Cream and Cheddar chips. (I know what’s up with that??) One day he was trying to indoctrinate my child away from liking those chips by referring to them as “stinky fart chips”. Not only does Jack still like those chips, but now he permanently calls them “fart chips”.
JACK: Can I have fart chips with my sandwich?
CASEY: (every time he’s about to go down the slide) Here come me!
Jack insisted on wearing his underwear backwards. When my husband asked why he said
JACK: Because I don’t like the pocket in the front.
CASEY: (rolling on the couch) I’m a wiggly, wiggly worm!!
One night Jack called out to in terror. Dan rushed in and asked what was wrong.
JACK: (crying) I can’t count to zero! DAN: … No one can count to zero. Go back to sleep.
It’s a journal that was given to me in May 1994 (says my mother’s handwriting on the inside of the cover). I was three years old and already loved to write. The first story I remember “writing” (drawing) was about getting the chicken pox, which Mom says happened the same year I got the journal. So, I knew I had been writing and story telling since then, but finding this thing was an absolute GEM.
It turns out I had kept it through the nineties and completely FILLED it full of my own original stories. So many in fact, that I decided to start a new blog series where I share a story I wrote in this book as a child.
Let’s start with 1994. Three years old. (For personal reference, my youngest is two and my oldest has just turned five, so… pretty little!)
The first thing I did was open to a fresh page and draw a “boney-bones” (a skeleton). Very on brand for me.
A ghost that’s labeled “Boob” hahahaha
Then I redrew the ghost and labelled it “Book”
A little character I drew in November 1994 (so, now I’m technically 4)
I figured out how to draw a tape dispenser. I have a vivid memory of being really excited about this haha
This one I don’t remember but my mom’s caption says it’s a story about a father and a son.
Tune in next month for some serious kindergartener author action hahaha.