Of all the ways our bodies betray us, Cancer has to be the worst. There are many other allergies and auto-immune diseases even mental illnesses in which our bodies don’t quite function in the realm of what is considered normal. Most of these other issues can be helped or maintained with proper diet, or lifestyle, or even medications( God forbid). 

I for one try to do things a more natural way. I have lived with Crohn’s Disease for about 15 years now. I have done the medication when things have gotten bad enough, but mostly I watch my diet and try to make health living choices ( no alcohol). I understand that doesn’t work for everyone but it has been for the past couple of years for me. (I recently started to dabble in essential oils. I’m in love. The husbands not so convinced)

However, Cancer is the one time our bodies are attacked from within that we as humans become helpless. It doesn’t discriminate based on lifestyle, race, diet, exercise, eye color, etc. Two people can make the exact same choices in life have the exact same genetics and one gets it and one doesn’t. Why is it that somewhere in our cells mainframe signals get crossed and people get sick? The question has been baffling our medical system since humans discovered what cancer was ( regardless of method of treatment).

My husbands aunt was recently diagnosed with stage 4 cancer that was basically spread throughout her entire body. She’s a young women with two children ( one a junior in high school, one in college). Recently her liver has started to fail because of the chemo. What I’m asking from the entire web community is prayers, or well wishes, or good energy, or even healing thoughts. She is a wonderful fun loving human being. In the short time I’ve known her I’ve always felt so welcomed and loved. 


 How have other people coped with Cancer? What methods did you all try? Is modern medicine really the only choice? Is there some other treatment that won’t postion our other vital organs? 

Until later


Fingers crossed

This post isn’t about the children but about my second love: COOKING. I say that in a broad sense because more than not it includes the art of baking. I enjoy both immensely. I recently had the pleasure of watching the documentary Cooked on Netflix. It is acutely a book written by Michael Pollan that he made into a film. I haven’t had the pleasure of reading it yet, but it is on my next “to do” list. (Currently I’m reading Fantasical Beast and Where to Find Them by JK Rowling. A thoroughly entertaining look it to wizarding creatures).

This film talks about what makes us human is the ability and loving of cooking our food. I won’t do a full review on it right now. (Needless to say I could I love it so much) The film got me thinking about the bread we eat and I wanted to trying making the traditional Sourdough bread they were in the movie. 

I read many Pintrest articles about making the starter. It contains NO added yeast. (Can you imagine bread with no added yeast) The yeast and bacteria (the good kind) come from the flour and the surrounding air. Cooked talks about how this traditional way of making bread is better for our bodies because of the natural health bacteria and yeast that get entered into our gut through this process. 

The short of it is I HAD  to try it. I didn’t get all fancy and use organic whole wheat bread and store bought water like most other blogs told me. (And maybe I will pay for it in the end) I just used what I had. ( unbleached flour and filtered tap water from the fridge). So far it seems to be working.  I’m on day two of my experiment. Most posts say to go 5-7 days so I’ll try that bake it and see if I’ve made some grave error somewhere. 

Fingers crossed 

Until Later

Land of the missing socks

I’m sitting here at midnight(ish) sorting through the dreaded SOCK BAG. Where did all these partnerless socks come from?  Where have all the single socks gone? Furthermore why are there gloves in here? No wonder my outside weather bin is partnerless as well.

I wonder over all the long years of my laundry life just how many socks have gone missing? Some of the socks in here have to be from when I first got married. In fact I’m pretty sure that I remember throwing that ones partner away.(hmmmf how frustrating)


poor little boy
 The problem is I have this new little boy( I say little lightly because he is already 15 pounds at 2 months) who has no socks.  I have been ransacking his older sisters drawers for socks to cover his little toes since the day he was born. I now realize that all the socks his size are sitting as singles in the sock bag. Alas I may need to buy more socks to replace the single socks or partner the singles with non mat hers. 


oh the horrors
I’m starting to think that the crazy colored non matching sock movement was started by a mother sick of the sock bag and buying new socks.

Time to dig more socks out of the dryer monster.(I’m also convinced it is a sock eating monster)

Until later

What have I gotten into

I’ll keep this short and sweet so dinner doesn’t burn. 

I’m sitting here watching my 18 month old daughter have a melt down about not being able to push a wagon. She glares at me with Saten eyes when I tell her to pull it instead. (As if that is even an option) Her yelling at the wall to get out of the way as she continuously smashes the wagon into it (The gall of that wall to be there) reminds me of my son’s wrestling practice last night.

We arrived in the packed hallway about 10 minutes before practice was over. Practice is in a wing of a big school, but there are multiple sports practices going on at the same time in the same place for children ages 3+. Needless to say it is chaotic. The point of my story is the 4 little girls that were in the hallway also waiting for practice to end or begin I’m not sure which. 

It was a 2 on 2 battle stare down for a whole 2 seconds. The leader of one group looked at the other and stated ” You don’t even know. Like whatever” in the most valley girl voice I’ve ever witnessed. (I didn’t even know that was still a thing). The two girls in leotards walked away. As the two on the floor continued to play with their mobile devices the obvious leader of that pack retorted with a ” She doesn’t even know. If she thinks she has more sass then me she is wrong”

I watched this show down with baited breath until I caught my husbands stare. He seemed appalled as if staring at a horror flick. 

Eventually there was another “High Noon” show down about which might be the sassiest of the two. A high school girl somehow found herself in the middle of it at one point. 

My son came out shortly after the girls scampered into their designated gym. As we turned to leave, I realized omg that was me. That was me I was that girl. And now has I watch my daughter sass off a ‘Jack-in-the-box’ for not staying down, I realized that will some day be her. Oh No Not her too. Why must the tweenhood involved a Valley Girl Disease? Why?

Until later

My nest is best

There is a P.D Eastman book call THE BEST NEST. A mother bird makes her husband and herself fly around the town looking for a better nest because hers is just not good enough.

This got me thinking today. My husband and I are always talking about the next best thing. The next job, the next house, even as menial as the next season or next year.

In the end of the book, the birds end up in the same house that they started. I often get nostalgic about the old days in our little tiny 2 bedroom house. We felt squished, but now it feels like it was quaint. I miss the lazy days of hanging out in the backyard with friends around a fire pit.


many years ago my oldest in our backyard
We’ve moved 3 times in 3 years and I’m starting to think we’re going to end up like the birds right where we started. My husband has a career in the oil field and it seems like that quaint little house might be in our near future.


couple years ago at one of the back yards
These thoughts came shortly after my husband and I realized  that my son (who just started wrestling this year) may need to “cut” a pound to stay in the smaller weight class. Mind you this boy does not have a pound to cut.
My mother ( who happens to have a blog of her own. ) told me that she is going to come have words with him if he thinks such a thing.

Well off to practice soon.

Here’s to many years in the same house, hopefully surrounded by friends and family. (I have yet to get out of the house to make those friends)

Until next time

10 Signs its a good “mom” day

I’ll see if I can snap a quick pic of the “littles” today to add to this post. Yesterday I decided to write a post about how one would know it is a good “mom” day. Most days the struggle is pretty really around my house, but yesterday and most of today have been good “mom” days. What makes a good “mom”day you ask? Well….

  1. A good day starts with a good night. Best nights are when only one child wakes up and that one child only wakes up ONE time. I repeat ONLY ONE TIME.
  2. When you get to get out of bed after 6am and get to bed before 9pm. (yeah some me time)
  3. The morning oatmeal Picasso DIDN’T get on the floor. It may be covering the toddler head to toe (including the hair and ears. Wait how did it get there?). Oh well its not the floor.
  4. When you turn on Netflix to find there is a new season of Sofia the First, or Wild Krats, or whatever cartoon it is that you have watched a million times and memorized every word but your child still insists that they haven’t seen.
  5. When the toddler lets you put at least one pony tail in her hair without fitzing. Oh my word she has eyes! Thank the heavens you don’t have to put up with snot crusted sheepdog hair today.
  6. You only have to sweep the floor 1 time. Ok maybe 2 or was it 3. Either way it was less than yesterday. ( I think)
  7. You have successfully hidden all the noisy “favorite” toys during the first nap and no one seems to notice.
  8. Lunch only has be reheated twice. (Yes finally something warm) And you only have to share 1/3 of it with one of the children. (not like they didn’t just eat seconds 30 minutes ago)
  9. It’s warm enough to go outside. Let the energy out of the house.
  10. And the greatest mom days are when I can actually type a blog post to brag about my rambunctious, wonderful, “littles” that allow me to have mom days

(no comment on how I’ve had to hen peck the keys to write this)

my view

until later.


Crumbs Crumbs everywhere and not a speck to eat.

The house of a billion crumbs. Sounds like a horror flick right. Well to this mom it is. Where in the world do all these crumbs come from? Yesterday while the two littles slept I got the notion to finally thoroughly scrub the floors. I moved furniture and rugs and swept and mopped and finally A MASTER PIECE. Only to be ruined 5 minutes after they woke up. (tear)

can you see the crumbs . I can see the crumbs

My husband and I are on our third house in three years. I like carpet. He likes wood ( or like wood) flooring. He grew up with carpet. I grew up with hard wood. He has now come to understand the difficulties of having hard wood floors. IT ALWAYS LOOKS AND FEELS DIRTY. He now agrees with me. (praise Jesus)

Part 2 of the day consisted of picking Jaxon up from school. (He has asked that days I don’t have daycare children I pick him up.) It wasn’t such a hassle because yesterday was 45 degrees F. Let me tell you about a heat wave. Today is much the same. It was already 30 degrees F when I walked Jaxon to the bus this morning.

On a lighter note, I let the older two play outside for a while when we got home. Ana always begs to go out but doesn’t seem to like the snow too much once she gets there.

I did post a video on ( my ) YouTube. She struggled.

Maybe I’ll get some better pics/ video today when I take them out. Crying baby. (which one? hmmm)

Have to run. Until later