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March 2026

The Stork and the Beanstalk

A Mother's Journal

A photo journal comprised of my thoughts on motherhood and other life happenings, as well
as some of professional work as a photographer. Southern California is home.

Category: Motherhood

A Guest Post: A letter to my future possible child

by Ashley filed under Guest Posts & Interviews, Motherhood

I love you, already, but I’m afraid of you. As in, terrified.

It’s not that I worry about being a good parent to you. I know I’ll be a good mother. What worries me is the immensity of what I’ll feel for you. It will consume me, overwhelm me, swallow me whole. It’s threatening, the power you’ll have over me. The meaning you’ll have to me. How will I stand it?

The existence of you means that something–the loss of you–could destroy me. Obliterate me. There has never been something in my life with that capacity. I have always prided myself on strength, but you could bring me to my knees. And I’m not sure I’d ever be able to stand up again.

I will want to protect you with a fierceness that will shock me. Every possible catastrophe will go through my head in the moments you’re away from me–from the time you take your first steps and wander into the other room, to the day you go off to college with only your own thoughts and plans to keep you warm at night. It’s crippling, really, the worry. The love. It must be a thousand times what I feel for my dog, for my cats, and I come to tears leaving them alone for a long weekend.

How will I function with what I’ll feel for you? How will I be anything when you are everything? I don’t worry about losing sleep due to those predictable fits in the first months of life. I worry about all the other nights, when you are resting soundly but I am up wondering what will become of you, if the world will be kind to you, if your heart will withstand inevitable heartbreaks.

If I give you life, know that it’s the most courageous choice I will ever make. If I don’t give you life, know that part of me will always wonder who you could have been and, also, who I would have been.

With love,
Your tentative mother

Kim Hooper | Copywriter & Novelist | Also, my sister

Keepin' it oldschool

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

Sometimes I hate the world we live in. What I mean is that I hate the technical aspects of the world we love in. However, I should add that I love my iPhone. And my MAC. And my iPod and lots of other things that have a little “i” in front of it. Exit Ms Pessimistic and please welcome Ms Contradiction.

Allow me to explain.

I always dreamt of having children. When I was a little girl, my mom brought me to a doll store and allowed me to pick out a doll. When she asked which one I wanted, I replied, “The one with the penis.” I’m not sure why the dolls were nude OR why the boy doll actually had a penis. I’m also not sure why I knew the word “penis.” But it’s a true story, promise. My sister and my mom can vouch for me. Fast-forward many years and here I am, mother to not one, but two boys.

Back to my dream of having children. I fantasized about what I would teach them, the places we would go, the books I would read them, how their father would interact with them, who they would become. All that good stuff. I’ll tell you what my fantasy did not include: iPods, iPads, video games, etc. I look down my street today and in place of kids playing, I see empty trash cans waiting to be pulled in and cars that somehow make it from one side of the street to the other to avoid tickets on street cleaning days.

So the question I pose is this: How do you raise a modern kid with vintage ideals?

Y’all can help me out with the answer because I have some ideas, but certainly you must have others. Multiple brains are better than one. Help this mother out.

Here are some things we do:

We support small businesses. For example, we buy handmade and vintage goodies on Etsy. We also buy from local Farmer’s Markets and opt for the local Pizza Cafe over the Little Ceasars right around the corner.

We buy ice cream from the ice cream man.

We (try to) listen to records rather than watch TV. Though truth me told, Curious George takes the cake in this house (gun makes contact with forehead).

When we do watch cartoons, we try to put on classics like Tom & Jerry or the Flinestones. Hooper was Fred a few Halloweens ago.

We play outdoors. Luckily we live in sunny southern California, so a getaway to the beach is never out of the question. Last year, we were heading to the sand and sea into October, when temperatures were still in the triple digits. We even made it to the beach in January and a couple times in February. Nevermind the current rain storm, that will pass.

We read old books. They’re worn. I like them for the simpler stories and old school values.

We buy vintage clothing and toys. I love the idea of re-using. All but a few pairs of Hooper’s shoes have been purchased used. And many of his toys were my own as a child. They remind me of a simpler time and I like the idea of him adding wear and tear to something I’ve already broken in with my own grubby hands.

We attend fairs, carnivals, and the local circus because we can’t get enough of deep fried twinkies, classic cars, petting zoos, and clowns.

We live in a home built in the 1950’s and do our best to keep it in it’s era. Our dream home is an Eichler.

And here’s how we mix in some modern twists:

You won’t find this mama in the kitchen. No soriee. Willy wears the apron in this family. And quite well, I might add.

I like to capture moments with any kind of camera modern day puts in my hands. I have poloroid, film, and digital cameras. I also love instagram. Though, back in college I did spend time developing my own black and white film in the darkroom, so there is that.

Like 8mm films? Me too. Though you won’t find any 8mm film in my home. I use to the super 8 app on my iPhone to make movies like this.

How ’bout you? How do vintage and modern come together in your household?

To Nina's house they go.

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Motherhood, Parenting

Isn’t it the case that as soon as you drop your children anywhere, whether it be preschool or a friend’s house, you miss them. I’m continuously dumbfounded by the someone-please-help-me-and-take-my-children-for-a-few-hours and the I-can’t-wait-to-see-my-children-because-I’ve-missed-them-so-much way of motherhood.

Twice a week, the boys go to my parent’s house during the day. I spend all day the day before looking forward to it only to be longing to pick them up when the next day finally arrives. But, I know it’s good; it’s good for me, good for them, and – I hope – enjoyable (maybe sometimes?) for my parents.

I came to pick them up a little early the other day and decided to snap a few photos; little mementos of their days spent at their Nina’s and Gee-paw’s.

Brothers

by Ashley filed under Brothers, Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting, Van

There was a point in time, mostly around the holidays, that you guys could not keep your hands off one another. I think a lot of it, in hindsight, had to do with all the gifts and new toys. Too many things to fight over. Hooper, you liked to do this drop kick maneuver that inevitably ended with you on top of Van. You guys were at each other non-stop; biting, pushing, shoving, toy-stealing, hair pulling… it seemed ending. You both had battle wounds to show for it; bite marks, bruises, and even some missing tufts of hair. The last few weeks, however, have been much smoother and you guys actually seem to be enjoying one another.

Van, you get jealous when Hooper and I cuddle. You also do not like sharing my lap with Hooper when I read you guys a book.

You like to “cheers” your cups together, Van more so than Hooper.

You have screaming contests. It’s awesome when you do this in public.

Hooper, you see it as your duty to reprimand Van. When I tell Van to stop or scold him, you are quick to jump in and hit him.

Van, your defense is pulling Hooper’s hair. I’ve considered shaving Hooper’s head because it looks so painful.

Every now and again, I’ll catch you guys playing in a room peacefully. My heart practically beats out of my chest when I overhear you, Hooper, teaching your brother something or directing him in some way or another. More and more you guys are becoming friends and it’s a beautiful thing to watch unfold. There are even times, as shown above, that you even – dare I say – console your little brother.

Malibu Creek

by Ashley filed under Brothers, Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting, Van

Oh there is something to be said for allowing time for boys to be boys. Skipping rocks, collecting sticks, dirt under the nails… it’s all part of childhood and it’s such a beautiful thing. I still need help getting the boys to and fro, but

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regardless, it’s been so nice to be feeling better and getting out a little bit more. I feel as though I’ve been hiding under a rock for the last few months and I much prefer skipping rocks into the creek instead.

Van @ 18 Months

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting, Van

Growth & Appearance: You’re still a big kid. You look like a 2 year old but waddle like an 18 month old. Your hair is blond and thick. We shave it often. Currently you have a scab on your knee and a scratch of unknown origin the side of your right eye. We can no longer leave you in just a diaper because you take it off every time. Even with shorts on the other day, I saw you trying to pull the thing off. Not sure that it’s quite time to potty train; I think you just like to be naked.

You have all your teeth, next ones should be the two year molars.

You wear a size 2T clothes / PJ’s, size 6 shoes, size 4 diapers.

Eating: You’re a tank. You love to eat and waddle as fast as you can over to your high chair as soon as you see food being made. Sometimes you require a snack just to shut you up until the food is ready to be put in front of you. You prefer to have a fork in your hand and are okay at using a spoon, but more times than not you use your hands because you can shovel it in faster.

You’ve consumed entire meals before your brother takes his first bite.

You love blueberries, cereal, carrots, cheese, oatmeal, banana… who am I kidding… there’s really not anything that you don’t like. You love eating ice.Sleeping: You’re still taking two naps a day. You wake up around 8:30 and nap around 10:30 for two hours. You nap again in the afternoon around 4:30 for an hour and a half or so. You’re not the most fun to be around on the days where you miss your nap.

We’re hoping to switch you over to the bottom bunk. We took you out of the crib and you are now sleeping in a big boy bed in your own room. Eventually we hope to put you and Hooper in the same room. You’ve transitioned out of the crib okay but nap time is more like whack-a-mole. We’ll keep at it, with fingers crossed. You love your blanket, as well as your stuffed animals. But your blanket is a must.

You still suck your thumb and put on your “hand hat” when you’re tired.

Talking: You say a ton of words and communicate well. The other day you handed me your empty sippy cup, asked for my “hand”, told me to “come”, and led me straight to the fridge where you pointed at your sippy cup and whined. You just started saying “thank you”, which is the first time you’ve put two words together. You also say “pee” for “please” and “side” when you want to go outside. Every time we go over a speed bump, you say “bump”.

You follow directions well.

Development: You started a little gym class and go with the nanny since I’m still unable to lift you. She says you’re the tallest in your class and you do well with everything. The balls, she says, are your favorite.

You join in on the bike rides by pushing your feed off the pavement as opposed to pedaling. Your shoes are all warn in from where you push off and one time, when you went out without shoes, you came in with wounds on your big toes from pushing. It won’t be long until you can reach the pedals.

Your laugh is as hearty as can be and seems to come from deep down in your belly. You love to be around laughter and occasionally snort when you laugh; it’s adorable.

You love being chased.

Perhaps it’s a second child thing, but you definitely have a sense of what is yours (of what you want to be yours) and refer to things as “mine”, accompanied with a whine and / or cry.

You’ve discovered that the computer is pretty cool and I can no longer sit at my desk without you climbing onto my lap. Sometimes you simply want to draw with a pen, other times you want to smack all the keys on the keyboard, and other times you request to watch a video on YouTube (you love the Fox Song and any nursery rhyme and all the truck / fire engine videos that your bro loves).

You love to steal my pen and get pissed anytime I’m writing with one and won’t hand it over.

Following in the footsteps of your brother, you love to do what we’ve coined as “the grandfather” (where you walk around hunched over and shuffle your feet like a little old man) and “fancy feet” (where you stomp your feet back and forth in quick succession).

You refuse to go down steps by yourself and ask for one of our hands to hold. You finally did it by yourself the other day, but it took a lot of coaxing.

Favorites: You love to have books read to you over and over and over again. Your favorites are “Goodnight Moon”, “I Know An Old Lady Who Swallowed a Fly”, and any beginner books that has cars or trucks. You ask me to sit and then plant your little bottom in my lap constantly. You’re fascinated anytime a police car or fire truck goes by with their sirens on and you could sit behind the wheel and pretend to drive the car all day long. You also love to put your hands under the facet in the bathroom. And, of course, you love cars.

Riding on bikes with boys

by Ashley filed under Bits + Pieces, Hooper, Motherhood

Have you ever rode a bike with a toddler? I remember my mom declaring that her back was never the same after teaching us to ride our bikes. We’re not there yet with Hoop; we’re still in the training wheel phase. But, in some ways, it’s equally torturous.

“What’s that, Mama?”

He stops riding and I practically walk in to his back tire cuz I’m riding his ass.

“Sounds like some sirens off in the distance”.

“I want to see”, he says.

“Sounds like they’re gone”, and we re-mount and ride along. I ride his ass because he’s going slow.

“Wook-at-dat, Mama!”

We stop to pick some dandelions. He sniffs them and there is yellow pollen that makes a Hitler-like mustache under his nose.

Re-mount. Ride his tail.

A few yards later, we stop again. This time, we pick up sticks. Then some acorns. I answer ten more questions about the various sounds he hears.

It’s so easy to get stuck in A to B mode. When he asks to go on a bike ride, which he does daily these days, I think about leaving the house, the route we’ll take, and how that route will lead us back to the house. His mind, in it’s beautiful infancy, works much different; it’s all about the space between… The sights, the sounds,

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Slow down, Mamas, and enjoy the ride. I don’t walk so close behind him anymore.

Hooper @ 3.2 years

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting

Growth & Appearance: You’ve grown taller and when you’re in shorts you can see just how long and skinny your little legs are. The weather has been windy and you’ve developed a horrible habit of licking around your mouth, resulting in redness and chapped skin. You look like you’ve just finished eating spaghetti with marinara sauce, always. You’re more inclined to wearing hats and you look adorable in the one hat we did buy you.

You’re wearing size 3T clothes and are in size 8 shoes.

Eating: You hate being messy and oftentimes prefer your Papa or I feeding you to avoid having to touch your food or potentially spill on yourself. Really though, I think you’re just not that interested in what you’re eating. You have no problem getting your hands dirty with french fry grease. You can still be a pain in the ass from time to time but the table is a far cry from the battlefield it used to be. We’ve all learned how to peacefully go on and we’ve let go of a lot of the distraction techniques we used to use (ie, TV during dinner).

You love bread, eggo waffles, yogurt covered raisins, bacon, pasta (you love carbs, in general), and lately, carrots. Despite these favorites, you do eat rather healthy. We rarely allow you to eat pure junk. Things like french fries are a rare treat.

The other day I caught you hiding behind the door in the office, eating banana bread with the sliest grin on your face.

Sleeping: Naps are a rarity. Every now and then we can tell you need one and – sometimes – you’ll take one. You’ve been getting up earlier, around 7:30, which feels like a drastic difference to the days you’d sleep until 8:30. With that said, you sleep through the night with ease.

We bought you bunk beds with intentions of moving your brother in with you. You sleep on the top bunk and love it.

Talking: You say whatever you are thinking and ask about every noise or new thing you see.

Favorite sayings:

“Sorry ’bout dat Mama” (said after that time you hit me, while driving, in the back of the head with a stick)

“Waffo ready” (every time the toaster pops up, regardless of what’s in it)

“Waz dat?” (constant, these days)

“I want to hit Van” (gotta love honesty)

“Going?” (where are we going?)

“Baby fire truck” (aka ambulance)

Development: I took you to your first movie, “Walking with Dinosaurs”. It was about an hour and a half long and I came prepared with snacks to hold your attention. At one point, after getting up and down like a little whack-a-mole a thousand times, you said to me “go home, mama”. The movie sucked anyway, so I asked you to pick my purse up off the floor (I’m still on bending restrictions). You picked it up from the bottom, the contents spilling all over the place. We had to stick it out until the end when the lights came on. I retrieved my lip stick under the seats in the first aisle. It’ll be a while before I take you again.

You can ride your bike, with ease, with training wheels. We duct taped your feet to the wheels to get you started because you refused to use the pedals initially. Within seconds after removing the duct tape, you were off. You ask to go for bike rides numerous times throughout the day.

You still write with your left hand and ride your scooter with your left foot, but throw with your right hand.

You stopped sucking your two fingers a few months ago and it kinda breaks your Papa and I’s heart.

You love picking your nose and eating it.

You’re full blown potty trained and able to pull down your own pants. You lift up your ding-a-ling and threaten to pee on me often. When I tell you “no”, you proceed to point it toward the bathtub or sink or wall or trash and ask if you can pee on these things instead. The answer is the same. You prefer to crap at home.

You started preschool in the beginning of December and seem to enjoy it minus a few long faces when your Papa or I leave.

You like going on adventures, but often ask “going home?” at some point.

You love to play pretend. You’ve been a cat a lot lately and meow a lot. You ask to be pet and call your hands your paws. You also like to make pretend meals with your fake food. You also wear your cowboy boots and refer to them as your “firemen boots”.

You’re a bit bossy and seem to think you’re in charge at times. You tell us often to “stop it” and also feel as though it’s your own duty to scold Van.

Favorites: You watched the Wizard of Oz and loved it. You love playing the “get me” game. You love cars and trucks and asked Santa for a “big truck” for Christmas. He delivered. You could watch videos of trackers on YouTube all day long. I’ve added things like excavator, impact hammer, and digger to my daily vocabulary. You also love playing “mailman”, where you go around the house delivering “packages”. You love cats and collecting coins and making piles of sticks.

Preschool

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting

We’ve known for a while that Hooper was ready for preschool. It happened about the time he stopped taking his marathon naps (seriously, sometimes they were up to 4 hours long) and insisted on watching back to back to back episodes of Curious George.

I hesitated, knowing I’d be having back surgery and therefore having to delegate yet another chore to another friend or family member.

Initially we were going to wait until I was fully recovered but we both decided he was more than ready and we figured we could swing it at this point in recovery. That, and we couldn’t handle him kicking, pinching, or biting Van one more time.

Willy looked at me from across the table on one of our lunch dates and said, “How do we sign him up?”. I always giggle to myself when he asks me questions as if I’ve been a mother longer than he’s been a father. I looked at him with equal cluelessness and said, “I dunno”.

And so, we made a few phone calls.

The first school we toured was a Montessori. Perhaps it was the fact that we saw the price prior to the tour, but neither of us got the warm fuzzies. We drove away wondering how the majority of people afford to put their kid through pre-school. No, really, how do you all put your kids through pre-school?

In the hopes of finding something more affordable, we stopped at a church and inquired about their program. Before price was even discussed, Willy and I gave one another the secret nod of approval. It all felt very organic.

And, just like that, Hooper started pre-school.

The first day Willy and I dropped him off together. He went straight for the toys without looking back and Willy and I walked to the car giggling over the thought of that day marking the first in what is bound-to-be years of schooling. I picked him up and was given a few handouts with classroom information, a playdough recipe, and a list of some things the teachers needed for the classroom and all the sudden I was the legit parent of a pre-schooler.

Despite a couple days of long faces at the time of drop off, he’s been doing great. I started him three days a week, half-days.

My favorite day yet was the day I dropped him off wearing a beanie with a large pom pom on top and came four hours later to pick him up to find he still had the cap on his, albeit a bit disheveled. The teacher told me he didn’t want anyone to take it off. I giggled to myself all the way to the car as I put my sweaty little ski-cap wearing toddler in the car. Man I love that kid.

When did you start your little one in pre-school? Is pre-school affordable in your area?

A Guest Post: To be (a mom) or not to be (a mom)

by Ashley filed under Guest Posts & Interviews, Motherhood, Parenting

This is the first in what will be a few guest posts written by my lovely sister. Hey look, there we are… (I’m on the left)

A while back, I did a guest post, anonymously, for my sister’s blog. You can read it here if you so desire.

The gist was this: I’m afraid to have kids. My fears include:

· What if something is wrong with the kid, physically or mentally?

· What if the world we live in isn’t kid-friendly (think pollution, global warming, wars, financial collapse)?

· What if I’m too selfish and impatient to be a good mother?

· What if my kid is an asshole?

· What if having a child makes my soon-to-be-husband and I forget about each other?

· What if pets are enough?

· What if the thought of helping a kid with homework gives me chills?

· What if I don’t have time to write or read or hike or cook or do all the other things I love?

· What if we struggle financially with a kid?

· What if I go crazy due to sleep deprivation?

· What if there are adventures and travels I still want to have?

All those fears aside, I know there are pros to having kids. Duh. I’ve met my nephews. They’re pretty awesome. I can imagine how amazing it is to create a life with someone I love. I can imagine the fulfillment of that, the love, the lessons. I just don’t think it’s for me.

Before you encourage me to change my mind, rest assured I have thought about this long and hard. I have played Devil’s Advocate with myself. My fiancé and I have discussed this at length. We even went to a preconception counseling appointment (who knew they had such a thing?), just to get some information. The doctor said that I would be considered “high risk” (according to the insurance companies) when I’m 35 (which is now less than a year away). I know that’s just a silly policy, but the words still threaten me—high risk. I am a person who prefers very little risk. As in, no risk.

But even if I was 25, I don’t think I’d want a child. I’ve never wanted to be a mom. I’m an introvert who needs A LOT of alone time. I worry that being a mom wouldn’t allow me that. I’ve struggled with depression in my life. I worry that I’d pass that on to my child, or that my depression would flare up as a parent. I’m a chronic worrier. I worry about that.

The reason my first post was anonymous was because I’m a little embarrassed that I don’t want a kid. Most women want children. Most describe an ache, a craving, for a child. I’ve never had this. Most women either ignore any possible risks, or embrace them because their desire for a child far outweighs any fear. I’ve never had anything close to such a desire. My sister, for one, always wanted kids. When we were little, she toted around baby dolls, “feeding” them from toy plastic bottles. I played with my Barbies. These days, my sister says she feels a little sad for me and all that I’ll miss by being childless. The thing is, though, I’ll never experience having a child myself so I won’t know what I’m missing. I’m happy as I am, and I’ll just go on as that person.

I used to think there was something wrong with me. I’m in a minority, after all. Now, though, I’m proud of myself for realizing my limitations and making a decision for the life I want for myself (and my partner). Plus, like I said, my nephews are awesome. I plan to love them with all my might.

Did any of you share my fears? Did you always know you wanted to be a mom?

Kim Hooper / Copywriter & Novelist / Also, my sister

An Interview with Jessica Kraus, from House Inhabit

by Ashley filed under Guest Posts & Interviews, Motherhood

Please, introduce yourself to my readers.

Hi there. My name is Jessica Kraus, I am a stay at home mom chasing after three (soon-to-be-four) incredible (endlessly energetic) little boys. A proud Scorpio and a hard core Bod Dylan / Woody Allen fan. Like every one else now days’s I keep up a personal blog documenting some of our little life highlights, as well as run a side business alongside my husband making / selling canvas teepees for children.

Using one adjective for each, describe each member of your gaggle.

Alright.

Mike: Practical

Arlo: Determined

Leon: Dreamy

Rex: Fearless

I’m such a fan of the You Are My Wild series. Tell me what your experience has been like with the project thus far.

Oh gosh, It’s been far more rewarding than I could have ever imagined. Not only because the other members involved happen to be top notch photographers (many of whom I have respected from afar for years prior) but also because we have all become fairly close in our real life communications, developing a relationship outside of “wild” and Instagram, which is where our connection was initially rooted. A fun littler chat group that’s developed via facebook, where we all check in through the week, bounce ideas, concerns, day to day frustrations, ect. off one another. And we laugh. Lots. They are a great, incredibly funny, super talented group of people and I am so grateful to have been included in the project. I would never refer to myself as a photographer, but the project has definitely forced me to push myself and the raw skills I do have so that I don’t completely embarrass myself on a weekly basis.

Of the images you’ve submitted for You Are My Wild, which one is your favorite thus far?

I don’t know that I have a favorite. Only because from week to week they are slightly different, growing always and forever inspiring me to embrace the present and enjoy every second of their ever fleeting journey as children.

Don’t lie. Were you hoping Rex was a girl?

Oh Absolutely. I was pretty positive he was going to be a girl. We had kept it a surprise until the end so when I saw a third penis I was in complete shock. I couldn’t stop laughing. The state of shock I have yet to fully recover from – not because of the fact that we have another boy – but because that boy, is more BOY, than any boy I’ve ever met. That kid is taking years off my life, I can feel it.

I want to have a third. Willy says yes, jokingly, some days and absolutely no, not jokingly, other days. You have three. What do you think? Do you regret your decision. Ha! Of course you don’t. That’s a silly way to ask the question. Allow me to rephrase: Tell me how wonderful it is to have three boys (I know my third will be a boy and, truthfully speaking, I’m not sure I’d even know what to do with a girl).

I always say: having three kids is not hard. Having two kids, AND Rex, is beyond exhausting. But in all honesty, they are so darn hilarious it makes up for every single plight they put me through. Even in the wreck & chaos that engulfs us daily, they make me laugh constantly. The three of them are so entirely different in every way imaginable, that sometimes they feel like characters out of a comic strip. Also, the natural notion of a brother’s bond is the best. Seeing them engaged in a fist fight one second and then falling asleep piled into each other, bodies entwined, in a tiny bed, is pretty much the sweetest sight I can possibly fathom. I say have a third! Makes you feel like you’re really working.

Your husband makes stuff. How do you keep your hands off a man like that? Rhetorical question. Really though, how nice and useful is that?

Haha! Right? Obviously one of his most admirable qualities. And really the very reason I fell in love with him in the first place. I liked his old school work ethic and the fact that he can literally fix or build anything he sets his mind to. Be it plumbing, landscape, guitar, carpentry, electric, or restoring all those debunked automobiles. He knows a lot about a lot that I don’t, so it keeps me intrigued. Not to mention he also has some kind of superhuman energy, unlike anybody else I’ve ever known that enables him to wake at 4am, work a laborious 8 hour job, drive home in God awful traffic and still find time to build the teepees, tinker with an engine, play in a band and spend time with the boys, in addition to all the regular stuff it takes to keep up an active household like ours. He’s incredible. The only thing I’ve ever seen him fail at is wallpapering. And, well, he wasn’t much help with diapers either, but I let that one slide.

If I could have any talent in the world, I’d love to sing. Instead, I’m good at preventing cavities. I’ve never had one despite the fact that I didn’t even floss until I met my husband. How about you?… What talent do you wish you had… or if you want to share your cavity prevention strategies, that’s fine too.

I really wish I could cook. Like gourment meals built on exotic ingredients that everybody really loved. I am a bare essentials woman in the kitchen. Typically clinging to super simple meals. I could use some lessons.

I’m dying to read your upcoming post on public schools, sum up your thoughts in one sentence.

Thank you for reminding me that I need to write that! In short, I think it gets a pretty bad rap. I have quite a bit to offer in it’s defense. If in fact I ever get around to actually writing a post longer than a single paragraph.

Have you ever considered home school? I don’t think I have it in me. And I love Heather Rome’s whole thing she has going with her husband during the school year: #wedatewhileourkidseducate. I think I could get on board with that. Hashtag: makes me look forward to preschool.

I think homeschooling can be a great. A rewarding experience for certain mothers, and their children. But I think it depends on the kid, and how they respond to the parent in the teacher role. I did briefly consider the home schooling route just before Arlo entered kindergarten, but came to the conclusion that I really truly do not have the patience in me to provide a well rounded, focused education. Plus my math skills literally stopped at second grade, so it just wasn’t a practical option for me. And really, I feel very fortunate for the lessons I took aways from my own experiences at a public school and hope they will experience some of the same.

One more school question. I hate schedule. How hard is it, with three kids, to mix in some spontaneity? I dread starting my boys in school. I hate when everyday starts to look the same. Tell me it’s wonderful, even if you have to lie.

It’s defiantly hard on a spontaneous sprit, but we make the most of it and are pretty lenient when it comes to missing days here and there for special occasions. We let Arlo miss some times to go to Disneyland with his grandparents, or like last week – stay an extra day with them in a vacation cabin in the snow. I’ve also been known to keep them home when I see they are overly exhausted and maybe need a day to rest and recharge. In other words, we aren’t sticklers for attendance and I think the boys will hopefully look back on those special days outside of school with the same fondness I had for my own childhood “ditch days.”

You’re such a beautiful writer. Tell me more.

Hey, thank you! I do have a degree in English and was thoroughly enthralled by fiction workshops most of my later college years. Somewhere in the back of my head I fantasized about writing fiction for a living but decided to have babies back to back right out of graduating instead. I gave up the planned high school teaching gig and found my way as a mother, writer, creative whatever, as I went along. The blog is the only place I share my writing (brief as most of my postings may be) for now. But that doesn’t mean I don’t look forward to expanding that little “hobby” at some point down the line.

You and Denise have such a beautiful friendship. How did it start? How long have you been friends? Tell me what you value most about your relationship with her. Go ahead, make me miss my best friend more than I already do.

Aww, my best friend since preschool moved across the country for a few years awhile back and it broke my heart not to have her around for that period of my life. I know how you feel Hugs

As for Denise. It’s a friendship that sprung from Instagram (as modern day connections tend to go these days, eh?) We realized early on – through our shared photographs – that we had quite a bit in common with lifestyle in general. The first time I met her I knew instantly that we would be fast friends and it’s been the case ever since. We just get each other, the way people that have been friends for ages do, we get along easily and both have similar outlooks on the arts, plus we laugh like teenagers when we’re together. It’s an easy, fun, and very close knit connection. And, she is one of the funniest gals I know. Always keeps me on my toes, which I admire a lot in anyone in my life.

I know you’re a huge Dylan fan. I am too. I’ve seen him three times. The first was back in the 90’s (Oh Lord, that’s long enough ago to refer to the time by it’s decade… it just got all awkward up in here) and the last time was just a few years ago. He was great way back when but the last time I saw him was a bit rough. Do you still go see him live? Willie Nelson, on the other hand, now there’s an 80 year old that I’ll still throw my panties at.

I’ve heard Willie Nelson is killer live. I’ve got to see him one of these days. Dylan I’ve watched a handful of times starting when I was 16 and ending somewhere in my twenties. For me, each experience has been more painful than the last. I refuse to put myself through it again. He is what I consider to be one of my greatest loves – his songs, the soundtrack of life – cheesy as it sounds – so I can’t bear to see him reduced to a frail man waling through unrecognizable songs that I hold so dear to my heart. One concert he simply disappeared off stage for more than 20 minutes. The band was utterly baffled, the audience worried. I couldn’t stop thinking he walked off and just keeled over backstage. Ruined me for good as far as live shows go. And therefore the end of my “gotta see Dylan when he’s in town!” train of thought.

While we’re on the topic of music, here’s a taste of how random my music library is: I listen to old country, some folk, some Spanish (I love Buena Vista Social Club), oldschool hip hop like Grandmaster Flash, even some old R&B like Chaka Khan, and lots of other stuff. Gimme a glimpse into the variety in your music library.

Ooh, you’ve got a flavorfull mix there, lady. B.V.S.Club I’ll need to look into. I like mostly everything too. Folk and old blues are my favorite. But we are also stocked with a ton of old country and classic rock. I adore early Elton John and Stevie Wonder, was really in awe of Amy Winehouse’s untethered talent (miss her still) will forever love Lauren Hill and Fiona Apple, and will admit to having a huge (and lasting) crush on Jay Z. I’m not good at keeping up on newer music. But I don’t make much of an effort because I tend to depend on a couple younger (hipper) friends to keep me posted on that stuff. Just a few of the “newer” artists around I’m digging are: Edward Sharpe, Shovels and Rope, Father John Misty and Cat Power aways.

Wanna trade mixed tapes? Ya, I said tapes. Whatever.

Sure! Mine just might take a loooooong time to get to you. I’m awful with mail, or any kind.

How many bruises do you have on your legs right now? I have one huge purple on on my right thigh. The joys of having boys, I suppose.

I live in long skirts so I don’t count anymore. Please don’t make me count?

How many cars have you guys owned? And given the fact you like to buy and sell so many, how ’bout sending one my way :: wink wink ::

We have owned a LOT of cars. We could care less about having a fancy daily driver. We both vow to drive our real cars to the ground. BUT, we do enjoy a cool old set of wheels as our weekend backup. We’ve had everything from mustangs, to falcons, to novas, to VW buses to big old RV boats and now the beloved old land rover and busted bronco sitting in our driveway currently. I told Mike he needs to pick one of the two. I’m still waiting on his decision. I’ll send you the outcast?

Your favorite qualities in a women.

Humility, loyalty, sense of humor, and open mindedness.

Your favorite qualities in a man.

Humility, diligence, creativity and looking good in beards and white tee shirts.

If not yourself, who would you be?

TIna Turner. Everybody who knows me knows the fact of it. I’ll explain another time.

Where would you like to live? Where would you like to travel?

I’d like to live closer to the ocean. With a bit more land. As for travel, it’s not my strong suit, I’m comfortable near home or at home. And I’ve come to accept that in myself rather than trying to force a seeking spirit where there is not.

Advice you would have given your 20 year old self.

Don’t waste so much time and energy on trying to be so “good.” Your 30s will take care of that real quick.

Advice you would have given your first-time pregnant self.

Each child is different. They all flourish on their own time. Don’t compare!

You strike me as a woman who always has a trick up her sleeve. What’s next?

Hmm, let’s see . . .

If I can get organized and stay focused we will be launching our children’s line this Winter. A project we’ve been working on that is so long overdue. As well as a creative venture I hope might evolve and allow us to put our stamp on various products we care about down the line. I’d love to write a children’s book. And there is talk of setting up a mobile shop in a vintage trailer to house our Little Folk merchandise, but it all comes back to organization and focus. It’s easy to sit around with all these brilliant ideas. It takes a real determination to see them through. Balancing our time will always be our greatest struggle. But I have faith in us.

JESSICA KRAUS | Blog | Etsy | Instagram

Perspective

by Ashley filed under Motherhood

I had a conversation with a friend the other day about the “golden hour”. You know, that seemingly blink of an eye when the light is as beautiful as it ever has been just before the great big sun gives way to the dark of the night?

And I was saying how badly I wished it lasted longer. It goes so fast that instead of focusing on it’s beauty, it makes me anxious because I know how fleeting it is.

But perspective is everything, isn’t it? After bitching and moaning I ended the conversation with the acknowledgement that it happens every day. Every day the sun rises and the sun sets. And that, my friends, is pretty spectacular.

And with that I felt greedy for wanting it to last longer.

Recovery is the same way. Every day, several of us live seemingly normal lives and because much of what we’re able to do is similar from one day to another, we forget how great it is to have the energy to get through a day or – dare I say – make it through a day without pain or discomfort.

I’ve spent many days of my recovery feeling sorry for myself yet, as a nurse, I care for people all the time that have chronic conditions; people who live with limitations and pain in their “normal” every day life.

Perspective.

A friend from work came over last night to pick up some bags filled with clothing and household things I put together for her to send to her family in the Phillippines. The typhoon has left her family homeless, without any clothes or belongings. Families have been torn apart, children have

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lost their parents and vice versa.

Perspective.

On this Thanksgiving, I have a heavy heart and a clear perspective. I’m thankful for the setting and rising sun, the love and support I’ve received during my recovery, and both my family and the home that contains our love.

Wishing

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everyone a beautiful Thanksgiving tomorrow.

*Top photo was an outtake from Janet and I’s trip to Salvation Mountain and bottom photo was from this post.

Life

by Ashley filed under Hooper, Motherhood, Parenting

I happened to have my camera in the undercarriage (ha, undercarriage… am I the only one that thinks that’s a funny word? It might be up there with “moist” on my list of would-rather-not-use-words) of the stroller back in September when we were out shopping. As a side note, don’t let the easy flow of that sentence fool you; I go shopping as often as Ray Charles sees the sun. In any event, I snapped these two pictures of Hoop. Maybe I should mention also that I shot these before my surgery because these days I only dream about getting down on the floor like that. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to be able to bend and twist and lift. I wish I wouldn’t have cut of his feet in the first photo, but you can still barely see his toes on his right foot. No shoes, no big deal. He spit all over that mirror. He’s real into spitting lately. Then he insisted on going in the fitting room with Willy, when I snapped the second photo. Oh ya, and he refers to all mannequins as “monsters”.

What does shopping with your kid look like?

A Guest Post, from Sash @ Inked In Colour

by Ashley filed under Guest Posts & Interviews, Motherhood

Sash is one of those bloggers that pulls on my heart strings. I can read the first two sentences of any of her posts and always relate, instantly. She’s adventerous and raw, wild and free, loving and real. I wish Australia weren’t so far away because she’s a mother I’d like to cheers my glass to over and over again. Long live the blog world for making the whole world seem like a smaller place, a? I only wish it were…

I have heard one thing over and over again throughout my parenting journey. Children thrive on consistency. There are a thousand articles all over the internet shoving those words down the throats of unsuspecting parents: children thrive on consistency. In fact, they need it, according to many experts.

So if this is the way to raise children in our fast paced, consumer driven, western society… I have something that I must admit…

My name is Sash and I am… Inconsistent.

I am happily inconsistent. In fact, I thrive on inconsistency. I love nothing more than the thrill of change. The light and bright air of the open road. The breakfast for dinner. The pyjama days. The late nights under the covers watching movies when I know we “should” both be in bed.

I’ve tried to be consistent. I really have. I’ve tried to serve meals at the same time. I’ve tried to work “real” jobs and fold my laundry and wash my dishes and be organised. But I’m not any of those things. It feels like playing house, and whilst at first (after a glass or two of wine) it might feel novel… like all of a sudden I’m all grown up (am I alone in my late 20’s where I

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still feel like I’m light-years from being a grown up? surely not!)… but soon enough the novelty wears off and I throw the clothes in a heap and the dishes in the sink and I grab the paint and the chalk and the dinosaur tails and we escape real life into a world of make believe… or better… we escape to far off lands where we are surrounded by wonder and language and culture and the great unknown.

I’m a terribly inconsistent person. I’m an inconsistent blogger. I’m flighty and I get caught up in my own imagination and find myself easily tempted down the path less travelled. I spent months in India when I should have been studying… I went and lived in a bungalow on the side of a rice field and drank beer and played hookey from real life when the rest of my friends were climbing the corporate ladder. I have tried and tested a thousand and one lives and in the end found that none of them quite fit… I’m a single mother to a beautifully well adjusted, happy and joyful toddler who eats curry and dances to the symphony and laughs and licks and bites and drives me bat shit crazy and I love her to the end of the earth and back again… to infinity. And just a little bit more.

I’ve had people tell me that children crave stability. They like to sleep in their own fancy bedroom, that their own bedrooms and own beds and own space make them well adjusted human beings. I’ve been told that there are a hundred and one gadgets that will help us parent, that will allow us to be consistent right down to the sounds our children hear when they go to sleep. Children like to do the same things day in and day out because it makes them feel safe… say the articles. Inconsistency breeds unknowing which breeds fear which breeds instability which breeds… well, unhappiness. I call bullshit. I called it loud into the air off a Balinese volcano as we perch on the top, my baby and I… it was way past nap time and we were eating sticky rice and laughing at the wind. And you know what? We probably didn’t have a bath that day and I can guarantee we didn’t even care. I’m sure children do thrive on stability. I’m positive of it. These child psychologists and parenting experts and baby whispering guru’s are probably

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all right… but you know what they aren’t right about? The other side to the story. The side that says that kids thrive in all sorts
of lives in all sorts of ways all around the world. There is no one right way to raise a child. There are hundreds of right ways that are wrong ways from time to time. There is no one right way to do anything, ever. Kids thrive when surrounded by love. Be consistent with rules and routines or don’t be consistent, whatever. Just be yourself! Why don’t parenting articles say that? Screw the rules! Just be the parent you are with all of your heart because that’s all your kid really wants. They just want you…

I’m consistently inconsistent in so many areas of my life… but I consistently love her, my Bo. I consistently hold her when she cries and whisper stories to her and kiss her face and hold her hands and laugh with her and dance with her and take her on wild adventures and find her with arms wide open and sparkling eyes. She consistently licks my face and drives me to the edge and back again. She consistently laughs and reads and sings and locks me out of the bathroom.

I’m consistently in awe of this child that came from my body. This child I created. This child I grew and then nursed and held and nurtured from the comfort of chairs and beds and bungalows all around the world. She is me and she is not me all at once. She has my heart and she walks around with it, in her hands. Motherhood, man, it’s a wild ride. There is so much to see and so much to experience and so much joy and life and love right there… I just don’t have time to be watching the clock waiting for bedtime or snack time. Life’s too short… childhood too fleeting… Moments too blissful. Sometimes things work out just the way they should when you just stop trying so hard to do it right… and sometimes they don’t.

But that’s what tomorrow is for, right?

Thank you, Sash, for stopping by! Check out Inked in Colour by clicking here // Instagram // facebook

Life

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

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When I’m in the moment, sometimes I want nothing more than to be out of the moment. I hate saying that because I know how important it is to be present. But sometimes the kids are just all sorts of crazy and I can’t think about anything other than the mess I’m surrounded in, the dishes, the laundry, the shower I want to take, etc… and the moment slips away.

I photograph my children a lot because it’s something I enjoy doing. I love documenting all the mundane moments… even when my mind is elsewhere. And it’s a funny thing because I’ll upload the pictures after I put them to bed and all I can think of is how precious they are and how lovely that moment really was even though, at the time, it felt so chaotic and relatively unfulfilling.

Motherhood is such an oxymoron like that, isn’t it? What’s a snapshot of your life look like today?

We got this

by Ashley filed under Motherhood, Parenting

The kids and I tagged along on another one of Willy’s business trips out in Palm Springs a few weeks ago. Being a mother to two young children is not easy even on seemingly quiet and easy days at home. So anytime we travel, we know, shit can hit the fan.

Lately, however, life with the boys has been a breeze. And for the first time, on our drive out to the desert, I looked over at Willy and said, “We got this”.

Van is at that age where he is no longer a baby and not yet a tyrant toddler. He’s so enjoyable and easy. I’m done breastfeeding and now that I’ve gotten past all that hormonal bullshit, I’m throwing myself high fives left and right. Breastfeeding is great, I’ll be the first and last one to defend it, but being done is so freeing. It’s easier to look at my family as one unit as opposed to Van and I off in the corner keeping to our own private schedule of neurotic feedings.

Life is running at a less chaotic pace and we’re all enjoying the tranquility. Perhaps it was the calm before what is soon-to-be the storm. Be it what it may, we had a fabulous time and life has been treating us good. Today, I’m counting my blessings and feeling grateful.

More photos from our time in Palm Springs and our return to the Salton Sea to follow.

Breastfeeding

by Ashley filed under Breastfeeding, Motherhood

You can’t see things straight when you’re depressed, you just can’t. I knew enough in those dark two days after I weaned to know that I was in a funk, that things that were once exciting were no longer exciting. I shared my thoughts here and here. The fact I’m still writing about it has got to tell you I’m an emotional person. I mean I declared that post to be my last breastfeeding post and that was what is now four breastfeeding posts ago. Good grief, get ahold of yourself Ashley.

And, well, I want to give an update because I don’t think it’s fair to leave things on a sour note. My mind is clear and I’m back to my happy place, so I can reflect on our breastfeeding relationship with a sparkle in my eye as I reminisce on how things were at one time, in the beginning.

And that’s part of why ending your breastfeeding relationship is hard; it’s the end of a very long and tiring and emotional first chapter.

But there’s a second chapter and a third chapter and so on and so forth. As I type this, Van is handing me an over-sized birthday card my Aunt and Uncle gave him for his first birthday. When you open it, music plays and each time he drops his little bottom back and forth toward the floor. He sees my chapstick on my desk; it’s the same chapstick I had to take away from him yesterday when he managed to get the top off and began eating the contents of the tube. He whines and points in the chapstick’s direction and when I take the chapstick and hide it away in the drawer, he cries. He looks at me with tears in his eyes and I comfort him, his thumb in his mouth, his head on my chest.

Every time he has his thumb in his mouth, I think about it being my replacement. When I was breastfeeding him, he never sucked his thumb. And as I look down at him, I think how amazing it is that he’s able to comfort himself. I see, for the first time, the beauty in his independence.

And so, you see, the second chapter reads just as beautifully as the first. It’s just different. He’s not a baby anymore. But he’ll always be my child.

And thank you, again, to all of you that leave such beautiful comments. Sometimes it’s your own words that make me see things differently and I appreciate new perspectives more than you know.

You can check out my other posts on breastfeeding by clicking here.

Preparing For Surgery

by Ashley filed under Motherhood

I did a lot of things to prepare for the home birth I had planned with both my boys. When I was pregnant with Hooper, I went to prenatal yoga classes. We took all the classes on natural childbirth as well as the class on breastfeeding. I was as prepared as I could have been.

I had little idea of what the pain would be like. People tried relating it to taking the biggest shit of your life, others said breathing a certain way might help, yadda yadda yadda. But truth is, childbirth hurt. A lot. But, not so much that it’s not possible and not so much that I wouldn’t do it again; because I’ve done it twice now.

I’m having the better part of my entire spine fused soon and I’ve been forewarned that the pain is intense. While part of me wants to shrug it off entirely like they don’t know who they’re talking to, the other part of me knows this pain will be much different and felt for much longer on many different levels; there’s post-op pain, there’s two days after surgery pain, there’s getting up and walking pain, there’s I’m feeling better but the next morning I feel worse pain. I’m scared.

Some might argue that now is not the time for as major of a surgery as I am having. Part of me agrees. Recovery is not going to be easy. I have two young children who need me all day long. But I also have the rest of my life to plan out and, in my mind anyway, this is something I have already put off for years. The thought of having a third child is a very real consideration (for me, anyway, and for Willy, at times) and between waiting for the right time to have a third, getting pregnant, growing a child, and breastfeeding a child, I’d be looking at another three years at-which-point I’d be exactly where I am now, only with one more kid. Not to mention it’s a young person’s surgery, meaning that the correction that can be acheived and the recovery time is better the younger you are.

I’m talking out loud here. Welcome to the conversations I’ve been having with myself. I’m digressing. Back to how I’m preparing.

I grew up doing competitive gymnastics. I went to gym Monday through Friday from 4pm to 8pm from the time I was about 11 until I was 17 years old. I’m that girl that can beat her husband in a push-up contest (that either means I’m really strong or my husband is… well, I’ll let you decide for yourself). In any event, I haven’t worked out in years. So I reached out to a friend who was on the men’s team who now runs Fitness On The Run. I was at the gym the night Jon broke his neck. It was crazy and the thought of the silence that filled that huge warehouse that evening still sends shivers down my spine. You can read about his story here. He hooked me up with his wife, who was a college gymnast. You can read more about her by clicking here.

Here are some of the many perks I’ve noted while working with Cari:

-She comes to me. I cannot tell you how much of a hassle it’d be otherwise. I didn’t want to sign up for a gym membership knowing that there’d be months following my surgery I wouldn’t be able to use it. I also didn’t want to join a gym cuz, um, gross. I had a fellow nurse once tell me about a patient who had an open anal abscess infected with MRSA. When she instructed him, upon discharge, about wound care he replied, “I just soak it in the spa at the gym”. Um, gross. No wonder why everyone has MRSA. Gyms just aren’t my thing. Gymnasiums, on the other hand… Really though, I love the beauty of never having to leave my home. It makes it so much less of an ordeal with the kiddos. Cari almost always came over in the morning, before the kids were even out of bed. Easy peasy.

-Cari assessed my abilities, my limitations, my hopes and desires and tailored her workouts to meet my needs perfectly. Each workout brought me right to the point where I didn’t think I could go any further. And she always left me with homework and ways to change the exercies just a bit to make them easier or harder, depending on what my body could handle.

-I loved Cari’s attention to form. I know from my own gymnastics foundation that it’s not what you can so much as it is how well you can do it. I love that she’d rather have me hold something for 30 seconds with good form than for a minute with sloppy body mechanics.

-Flexibility. Cari worked with me and my home so well. She encouraged me to do some cardio each week and when finding the time to get out and ride a bike or hike up a hill didn’t work out (thanks a lot, motherhood) she came up with a cardio routine I could do in my home.

The first week was so difficult for me. I could barely hold a pen without my arm shaking, but it felt great. And it got easier as I got stronger.

Sure, I’m terrified of surgery. I won’t know how I’m going to deal with the pain and the recovery process until I’m in pain and in the recovery process, but I do have the power in knowing I prepared as best I could to meet the physical demands.

Live in the So Cal area? Check out Fitness On The Run. They are based in Newbury Park and I highly recommend them.

Don’t live in the So Cal area? Checkout some of their videos on YouTube. They also post some great recipes on their blog. And the sell several great products here.

This is not a sponsored post.

Life

by Ashley filed under Motherhood

A cut above his right eye, evidence of a new walker.

Over-sized birthday card for the newly one year old.

A shirt that’s much too small for an ever-growing boy.

Weights, in preparation for back surgery.

Sarah scratching her neck, a reminder to order flea medicine.

And shoes on the little one’s feet, because he adamantly insists.

What’s a snapshot of your life look like today?

A Girls Long Weekend, Palm Springs

by Ashley filed under Ashley, Bits + Pieces, Motherhood, Travel

09.09.201308.13.2025

Those who follow me on Instagram know I was recently in Palm Springs for some much needed girl time. I returned back just a few days later with Willy and the boys’ and had an awesome time hanging out with this beautiful family, but there will be more on that later.

I had been feeling so down and out after weaning, wondering when the funk would pass. I knew it was hormonal, but having the knowledge of the culprit did absolutely nothing in terms of digging myself out of the hole. I cried for two days. And I napped, which sounds dreamy – I know – but it was more of the depressed I-don’t-have-energy-to-do-anything kinda nap as opposed to the physically drained I-earned-a-nap kinda nap.

It lasted two days and even though those two days felt like marathon days, in hindsight it passed pretty quickly. Like having a newborn, when you’re in the trenches, not only do you not see the light but you don’t even know if you’re walking in the right direction. For all I knew, life was getting darker. Looking up depression after weaning, like everything else, was both a blessing and a curse; cool, I’m not alone… Ho hum, sometimes this lasts months?!

We had that nice weekend I spoke of here and a few days after that, I hit the road with my best friend.

And there’s nothing like the open road with your best friend. There just isn’t.

Sometimes when I’m away from the kids it feels like all I do is talk about them. But while our children came up in passing, we talked about so many other things: memories, work, dreams, travel, our husbands, things we are working on around the home, design, photography. We threw around quotes we had come across that made something clear that was a bit fuzzy before and we talked about some of the new documentaries we had watched. We listened to music, pulled over often to stretch our legs, and threw stuff in the back of the truck as if we had assistants back there to sort it all out for us.

It was just what I need and right when I needed it.

So please excuse the next few posts as I get caught up on sharing some photos from our adventure. There were no kids, so – ya know – we stopped a lot and drove a lot and photographed a lot.

Take that, you evil mom guilt. I’m not even feeling guilty about a

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few days away. I’m not. I said I’m not. And if I say it three times, I must be true.