Nester Says Dance, and All I’ve Got is a Hobble

This photo embodies the carefree nature of childhood. That we could all be so free...

This photo embodies the carefree nature of childhood. That we could all be so free…

Friends, I’m afraid my time on this blog is drawing to a close. It hurts my heart to write those words, it really does. It’s so bittersweet for me to think of moving on, but the truth is, this blogging journey is evolving for me, and I’m slowly allowing myself to be okay with that.

I’m not done yet. I have a few more posts set up for this space in the next couple of weeks, then it will be time to officially say goodbye. That’s the bad news. The good news?

I’ve got a brand new site under design right now that will be ready very, very soon.


I’m not leaving the internet. Oh heavens, no. I like it too much here to walk away. But life has changed, I’ve changed, and honestly…I’m kind of tired of the race.

I wish that I was leaving this site on the top of my game. Not too many months ago, I had thousands of people visiting each week, and I enjoyed writing and sharing my life with everyone. Then, life got hard and something changed. People didn’t want to stay around and read the hard things, and I get it – I really do. The title of my blog insists on light-hearted humor, and I broke that rule, and it simply wasn’t fair.

The truth is, I feel like I’ve had a chair at the “big kid’s” blogging table for awhile, but I’ve never quite been able to scoot my way in. I’ve sat on the fringes, knowing the right people, offered amazing opportunities, and yet still I had to fight to be heard, fight to be seen, fight to stay relevant.

I got tired of fighting. That’s not why I started this journey. I started because I wanted to share the journey of motherhood with others who would laugh at with me. Motherhood is hard, especially when the kids are young and you are literally crawling through crap most of your days. Young mothers, hear me on this: YOU MUST LAUGH THROUGH THESE DAYS!

It is imperative that when you walk into your child’s room and find poop smeared on the wall, that you throw your head back and laugh. Trust me, the journey will be so much more fun if you do.

I loved writing those posts, but I can’t do it anymore. I cannot tell my kid’s stories, because…well, I just can’t. And really, the title of my blog dictates that I continue to tell these humorous stories of motherhood, but to do so would be to compromise my children’s trust in me, and I’m not willing to do that.

So I’m winding down, and I’m preparing to launch Kelli The way that I write will likely not change there. I still love to laugh, and every opportunity that I can do so, I will. But I’ll feel less encumbered by the title of my blog, and I feel like I’ll have more freedom to share this place that the Lord has led me to:

A place where I’m motived by the inspiration of the world around me. A place where I get back to my first love, and the dreams I held as a wide-eyed college graduate – writing books. I traded that love for blogging some time ago, and while I don’t for one second regret the journey I’ve taken these last six years, I do feel like it’s time to move forward in my craft.

My friend Myquillin wrote a beautiful post today in which she processes her return home after a second trip to Africa with Compassion International.

“Dance in your kitchen.

Do your thing well.

Share what you have.”

Nester writes these words, and they stir in my soul. I haven’t been dancing in this space of mine. I’ve been trying so hard just to keep up, to be noticed by those sitting around the “big” table, and somewhere along the way I got tired. I’m sorry for that.

I don’t feel like I can dance here anymore. All I’ve got is a hobble. But can I share where I have been dancing?

Yesterday I wrote the first three pages of my second novel. My first novel is in the hands of an editor, and my heart hopes and prays it will be picked up for publication by the end of this year. Words make my soul dance, and stories give me song. In my new space, I will continue to let the words dance, and I’ll do so less encumbered by the title of the site, and more free to dance in the inspiration that moves me.

This isn’t my official goodbye. I have a few more words left to document here. But I’m getting close, and as I do I feel a dance coming on. I do so hope you’ll join me there.

Blessings, my friends.

I’m Baaaaaack

So apparently I’ve got this burgeoning bandwidth that cannot contain the awesomeness of this website anymore. I’d like to say it’s because of my massive traffic to the site, which would, naturally, point to my spectacular blogging prowess these last few months, and the unendingly hilarious posts that have brought hundreds of thousands flocking to my little square of the internet.

But you and I know that’s not the case.

So why the exceeded bandwidth?

Turns out my laziness does indeed have bounds. One of the things I have never been good at in this blogging journey is dealing with photo issues. The time it takes to resize photos so that they’re smaller has long been a suggestion by top bloggers for several reasons, the biggest being it’s much harder for someone to steal your images if they’re smaller.

I just figured that my images were never really good enough to be worthy of theft, so I didn’t pay close attention to it. Turns out, I should have, because large files also eat up your bandwidth, and I have six years of large images in my archives that are munching on my space at an alarming rate.

Super Duper.

So this week I will be figuring out how to deal with that. Neither one of my options for handling the issues are overly appealing, so I have that going for me. While I head off to figure out how to best crawl out from this hole I’ve dug, here are a few pictures from the last week. And yes, I took the time to resize these images. Live and learn, eh?

Also, I’ve got some news regarding this here site to share soon.

Consider that your teaser to come back and visit.



This sweet girl turned 8 yesterday. So, apparently, did her American Girl doll, because the doll got the best gifts.


I got a lens for Christmas that attaches to my iPhone and allows me to take macro shots. To say I love it is an understatement. I love the way your can see the world through this lens.


Today was the 100th day of school, so Landon dressed like a 100 year old man. He is the cutest 100 year old I’ve ever seen in my whole long life.

resized spiderweb

A spider web hanging from a tree, covered in morning dew. This world is really magical, isn’t it?

This Brilliant World – Keep Your Eyes Open

Image by Tammy Labuda Photography

Image by Tammy Labuda Photography

I have this habit of constantly watching the world around me. It may be the writer side of my brain that finds human behavior so fascinating, but truth be told, I can hardly get through a day without observing something that makes me laugh, makes me shake my head, makes me sigh or swoon, or just makes me want to keep watching.

I have a particular love for the funny, though.

Take, for example, the time I was at the gym stretching in the hallway, and a man walked into the corridor, stretched his yoga mat out on the floor, then proceeded to try and kick up into a handstand, only to fall flat on his face with a rather loud OOF! He rolled around like a turtle for a minute before calmly standing, rolling up his mat, and walking away as if nothing happened.

I saw you, sir, and it made my day.

There was a rather unfortunate incident in a Target parking lot when a man got out of his car in shorts that were too short and took several…um…exposed steps before he…felt the draft?

That one scarred me.

And let’s not any of us forget Air Butt. *shudder*

Months ago, I saw a woman trip over a crack in the sidewalk as I sat at a stoplight. She then proceeded to turn and berate the sidewalk, finger wagging furiously, for several seconds. That one made me giggle.

Yesterday I watched a man in a wheelchair, with a Radio Flyer wagon tied to the back, push himself furiously across four lanes of busy traffic. It was a most impressive feat, and I watched in awe at his tenacity…and bravery.

And don’t think I’m only laughing at the expense of others. I provide ample laughter, myself. There was the time I tripped over a wire and sprawled belly first onto the sidewalk. That was fun.

Or how ’bout that time last week when I looked back over my shoulder for a split second and plowed into the corner of a grocery aisle. I liked that.

This world, man. It’s full of fun, every turn providing opportunity for a chuckle, a giggle, or a full out guffaw.

Happy Thursday, friends. Look around today, and observe all the happiness this crazy world (and the people in it) have to offer.



One Size Doesn’t Fit All

Blogging is a funny thing in that it gives everyone the chance to stand up tall on their soap boxes and boldly declare I AM RIGHT ABOUT THIS AND ALL THE THINGS!

I say this with my tongue planted firmly in my cheek because, Hi! I’m a blogger.

That said, even I find myself weary of all the chatter online sometimes, but I find that the chatter only frustrates me when it pertains to subjects for which I feel a significant amount of passion.


Orphan care  – For me, that’s a big one, and more and more I’m seeing posts that frustrate me.

Posts that take unnecessary digs at adoption, at Christians who work to make orphanages more comfortable, crop up now and again, and I find myself terribly annoyed at this idea that the “Christian Orphan Care Movement” is actually doing more harm than good for children in the world.

This attitude incites a sense of shame and guilt for those people who really just want to help. To be clear, it’s not the topic that I disagree with, it’s the attitude that families who want to adopt, or to help bless children in orphanages, are contributing to a world-wide problem that leaves me with a sour taste.

Here’s the thing – there is no one size fits all solution to the orphan crisis. In a perfect world, yes – all children would grow up inside their own families, their own countries, their own cultures. Absolutely, I believe that that is the ideal.


This world is not perfect, and the solution to children growing up in institutionalized care is convoluted. It will look different for every child, for every family, and for every country.

Photo by Keely Scott

Photo by Keely Scott

There are children all over the world who have been orphaned for a thousand different reasons. Some are orphaned by drugs and alcohol, some are simply abandoned. Some are orphaned by tragedy, others are orphaned because their physical needs are too great a burden. Some are orphaned because their culture and government dictates life in such a way that parents have little choice.

The reasons for a child to be left in an orphanage are far too great, and they each require different solutions. While I do not want to assume that adoption is right for every child in every orphanage, I do want to say to parents who are hoping to adopt, in the process to adopt, dream of adopting – you’re doing a good thing! You’re offering a child hope for a future outside the confines of the orphanage. Don’t ever feel guilty for that – ever.

To those who are working to restore children to families who simply couldn’t afford to raise their children – you’re doing a good thing! Thank you for working so hard to reunite children with their families. Don’t ever feel guilty for that – ever.

To those who are working to make orphanages more comfortable and livable – you’re doing a good thing! Providing a stable shelter, offering clothing and supplies, funding renovations and better equipment – these are all necessary to making sure that children inside orphanages are receiving the best they possibly can given their current circumstance. Don’t ever feel guilty for that – ever.

To those who host orphans for a brief period of time then send them back to their homes – you’re doing a good thing! Many of you will move forward to bring those children into your homes permanently. Others will love those children from afar, and give them the hope of knowing that they are loved and valued inside this world. Don’t ever feel guilty for that – ever.

I do believe that children orphaned by poverty are some of the most devastating, because I feel the heartache of a family who simply cannot afford to raise a child. This is a travesty, and in areas where this most often happens, let’s keep working together to help these families stay together.


Next week, a team of bloggers will head to Uganda to talk about the work of Compassion International. This is the 5-year anniversary of Compassion Bloggers, and it will undoubtably produce amazing words and images that will allow us to see what orphan prevention looks like. Because of their hard work, Compassion International is keeping families together, keeping children out of orphanages, and keeping communities in tact. I’ve seen them do this, and I’ve never been the same for it.

There are so many solutions to the orphan crisis that people are working on around the world, and I’m grateful for each one of them. We need to keep working together to defend the orphan, in whatever capacity that may look like. This isn’t a battle of Conservative Christian verses Liberal Christian and who has the best solution. Rather than continuing the argument about who is doing the best/worst job in defending the orphan, let’s work together to be part of the solution to orphan care (and prevention).


The One Where I Brag on My Kids

Last night Lee and I took a little time to debrief. We haven’t really had time to talk this last month, to process all that was happening. It was sort of survival of the fittest around here, and since he went down hard with the flu, we’ve just passed each other in the house this past week with little more than a few mental high fives, and withered looks of fatigue.

2013 was a big year for us. Now that we’re on the other side of it and can look back and take stock, I’m amazed to see at all that happened in those 12 months. They were undoubtably the hardest months of our lives, and at the same time, with hind sight providing some clarity, I can see just how blessed last year really was.


And my kids? You guys, they were just amazing.



My kids saw and experienced more in the last year than they ever have before. They witnessed abject poverty when we went to Dominican Republic in June. They served many Saturdays at our church’s food pantry, and they helped serve Thanksgiving dinner to those in desperate need of assistance. They helped make shoes for children in Africa, and they delivered a car full of toys to children in the hospital.

And then, to top it off, we asked them to make the biggest sacrifice of all – we asked them to open their hearts to love a 17 year old girl from half way around the world, and they did it without hesitation.

roomSloan gave up his bedroom for a month, letting me turn it into a pink and grey girl room. He never complained, never asked why. He didn’t whine, and he didn’t once make us feel bad about the decision to put her in there. I could not be more grateful for his attitude. 

Tia sacrificed being the only princess girl in the house. She gave up a bit of her autonomy as the coveted female, and she willingly shared her daddy with K for four weeks. We had less time to spend watching her do gymnastics, and when it was time to play with makeup or paint nails, it was always three of us participating in the activities. She didn’t complain or react in jealousy, but freely gave up her coveted one on one time with us. I’m so, so proud of her.

Landon did what Landon always does. Pulled out a ball and asked K to play. The language barrier didn’t matter to him, and he willingly and daily asked her to play with him. Most days she said yes to his inquiries, but sometimes she said no, and when she did he moved on without complaint. He was so gracious and loving toward her. What a precious boy he is.

I’m bragging on my kids today because they deserve it. They aren’t perfect kids, and they have their moments, as any child does. But they gave up a lot this past year. We asked them to make sacrifices of comfort and time and material things to the benefit of others, and every time we placed a challenge in front of them, they met it.

When we began the adoption process a year and a half ago, we were warned more than once to be careful that our children weren’t sacrificed in the quest to bring someone new into our home. While such warnings are wise, and should be considered, the fact is this: our children (mine and yours) are a heckuva lot stronger than we often give them credit. Kids love to know they’re being helpfulthat they’re being used to make someone else’s life better.


I saw this not only in my own children, but also in their friends while K was here. So many of their friends wanted to be a part of blessing K, and they really, really did! They gave her rainbow loom bracelets and 1 Direction cards. They laughed with her, and shared smiles and waves that communicated so much love. K went home blessed by more than just my kids, without doubt.

If you’re looking at stepping outside your comfort zone this year and trying something different – something that might be hard – I encourage you to let your kids take the journey with you. And as you do, watch and observe how they respond.

I can almost guarantee they will surprise you.

The Story of Goodbye

Tonight was hard.


There were a lot of tears shed, puddles of salty grief washing soft cheeks, all dotted with freckles. As I held them close, all four of them, I couldn’t help but feel like I caused all of this. I know it’s not true – that such a feeling is a lie from the pit of hell meant to bring about the unholy guilt that stops one from taking action against the injustices of this world. But it didn’t diminish the pain I felt as I watched them cry.

This saying goodbye thing is not a fun ride.


It’s interesting, though, to watch my children embrace this act of sacrifice, even in the very worst moments. It’s a chance to share with them what we all must learn at some point in our lives – serving others requires sacrifice, and sacrifice is rarely easy.

We sacrificed time and energy this last month. We sacrificed funds, and sleep. I don’t say any of those things to publicly pat myself on the back. On the contrary, there were some days when I was so fully overwhelmed by the sacrifice that I wanted to scream…and cry. Then scream and cry some more. I didn’t enjoy every moment of the sacrifice, but if I had, would it really have been a sacrifice?

Sometimes I wish that God could have placed an easier call on my heart. Sometimes I wish that I didn’t feel a passion for something that’s so hard to fulfill. Sometimes I wish that I could just stop and be content with where we are – to enjoy the ride in the fast lane for a little while.

But only sometimes…

Sacrificial love requires that you shave off a piece of your heart and offer it freely. But can I share a little secret?

When you do this – when you give away pieces of yourself without any expectation attached – you’d be surprised at what you receive back.


When we signed up to host “K” for a month, we naively thought this would all hinge upon what we had to offer. We had no idea how much she would give back to us. She brought joy and laughter, and a wholeness that was entirely unexpected. This wasn’t about us, and it wasn’t about her.

This was about all that God could do with hearts willing to submit, and with broken people willing to take a chance.



Tomorrow there will be more tears, and more heartache, and my children will be separated from someone they’ve come to love deeply. “K” will board a plane and will be separated from a family she’s come to love deeply. We’ll all go our separate ways broken, and also more whole.

Isn’t it spectacular how God can both break and heal all in the same breath?

I’m trying to guard how many of the stories I share publicly – how much of the heartache and pain that we all feel to open to the world. Some stories need to be told, and others need to be protected. But I wanted you to know, my friends, that we are all going to be okay. This month was part of a design set into motion long before any of us drew breath.

It doesn’t make sense, and it isn’t easy.

But sacrifice never does, and it never is.

Thank you for your prayers, and yes, please keep them coming. But know without doubt that we’re all going to be okay.

This is only the beginning of the story…

You’ll forgive me if…

You guys, I want to write but I simply can’t seem to get my words organized. I’m completely scattered, my brain is a jumbled mess. My washing machine broke, my house is a mess, my stomach hurts all the time and I’m more exhausted than I’ve ever been.

You’ll forgive me if the next week’s posts are a little scattered?

Since pictures are worth 1,000 words anyway, I might as well just share those.

I’ll tell stories later.

Like the one about the time we went to Disney World and it was less than magical, but there were magical moments, and we’re choosing to remember those.

Or the morning I blubbered in church like a wee little babe, while on stage…Singing…In Russian…


Or maybe I’ll tell you about the night that precious friends came over and celebrated “K’s” 18th birthday with us ten days early, since she won’t be with us on her real birthday.

It was her first ever birthday party.

I could tell you about the conflicting emotions in my head and heart – about how part of me is so terribly sad to see her go, and the other part of me longs for the return of a “normal” routine. I could tell you that I know that both of these feelings are natural, and there’s nothing wrong with either feeling, but that each time I find myself looking forward to having my house back, I feel a twinge of guilt for the thought.

There are stories to tell, and stories to keep to myself. But for now, there are plenty of pictures to share.

Happy Monday.

One of our favorite experiences at the Zoo when a friend took us behind the scenes and let us play with this fella.

One of our favorite experiences at the Zoo when a friend took us behind the scenes and let us play with this fella.

We also fed the giraffes, which is always fun.

We also fed the giraffes, which is always fun.

Perhaps my new favorite photo of all time. Tia and a rather surly Llama had a moment. It was a bit of a stand off - two attitudes colliding. The Llama won by lunging and sending her scampering away with a yelp. :)

Perhaps my new favorite photo of all time. Tia and a rather surly Llama had a moment. It was a bit of a stand off – two attitudes colliding. The Llama won by lunging and sending her scampering away with a yelp. 🙂 Also – I’m jealous of my daughter’s arms…


The Llama was in serious need of a good orthodontist.

The Llama was in serious need of a good orthodontist.

K feeding the birds.

K feeding the birds.


A beautiful day calls for jet skis.

A beautiful day calls for jet skis.

And then she drove, and she felt like she was flying.

And then she drove, and she felt like she was flying.


Magic Kingdom!

Magic Kingdom!

Even if you've never seen the Cinderella movie, you can still be in awe of a real, live princess.

Even if you’ve never seen the Cinderella movie, you can still be in awe of a real, live princess.


Enjoying birthday cookies at her very own birthday party with her very own babushka.

Enjoying birthday cookies at her very own birthday party with her very own babushka.

She loves that she has grandparents here. So precious...

She loves that she has grandparents here. So precious…




Imagine waking up each morning surrounded by people, but totally alone.

Imagine walking to and from school and home each day knowing that you could disappear and no one would really care.

Imagine going to bed at night without saying goodnight to anyone.

Imagine the doors being opened for you, and walking out into the world without any support system, without anyone to advocate for you, anyone to fight on your behalf. 

Imagine being thrust into adulthood without the tools necessary to survive.

Imagine a world full of light into which you cannot walk.

Imagine being trapped in darkness with no real hope.



The plight of those without family is more real to me than it’s ever been before. I’ve known the statistics for a long time – Girls who ago out of an orphanage are 60% more likely to end up in prostitution. Boys who age out are 70% more likely to end up in prison. The suicide rate for children who have exited an orphanage without a support system are sky-high.

I knew these things, but I’d never touched them.

This is a fight that we cannot ignore. I’m a huge proponent of adoption. I absolutely believe that adoption is a necessary and important tool in orphan care. I’m also, however, passionate about supporting orphans within their own countries. We must help them from both ends of this spectrum.

I do believe that it’s best for children to be raised in their own countries, amidst their own cultures. I also believe that’s not always possible, and for those who are called, I fully support you in your quest for adoption.

There has to be more, though. We must advocate for the fatherless with zeal, and we cannot give up on this quest because too much is at stake. I heard it said not long ago that growing up without a family is toxic to a child’s soul. There is, perhaps, no greater loneliness than that of knowing that no one cares. 

This isn’t a post that’s meant to incite guilt. The truth is, I don’t really know what the next step is for our family. When we put “K” on the plane next week, what happens next?

I don’t know. But I’m asking and I’m seeking, because now I know and once you know the truth, action is required.

The orphan crisis is big – it’s so big. Bigger than any one person, or any one organization. But results are tangible, and there is hope to be found. (<—Click this to tweetHope may be slow, but it’s alive and it’s real and it’s the only thing that can shatter the darkness.

All I ask today is that you imagine the feeling of being totally and completely alone. Imagine,  just for a second.

What can you do?

What can I do?

What difference could we make in this world if we weren’t afraid to try? 

Tenting with Shamoo

If anyone ever tells you that sleeping in a tent is comfortable, go ahead and assume that person a liar. If they tell you that having the proper equipment is all that stands between you and a good night’s sleep in a tent, kick them in the shins and flee.

We camped last weekend.

Our friends Kevin and Jenni let us borrow some of their camping gear for this trip, and I foolishly thought that having nice gear would make the entire experience okay. On the second night of no sleep, however, I may or may not have cursed nature and all it’s components.

Here’s how it went down…

We arrived at the campsite and began pitching our tent. Just as we tossed the rain shield over the top of the tent, the rain began to fall. Then the sky sobbed for 45 minutes. I think it was nature’s way of trying to warn us of the consequences of camping in January, but we misinterpreted the storm as “memory making” and “character building.”

My mountain man. Photo courtesy of my friend Karen.

My mountain man. Photo courtesy of my friend Karen.

Who wants to play in the cold rain? These crazy kids, that's who...

Who wants to play in the cold rain? These crazy kids, that’s who…

The rain stopped, we finished setting up (including mopping up a small lake that had developed inside our tent). Super duper…

Then the temperature began to drop plummet. The #1 redeeming quality of camping absolutely must be the fire pit. A crackling fire on a cold night gives you the false sense that this camping thing was a pretty darn good idea.

It also helps if you’re surrounded by good company. Kids running through the trees, breathless and pink cheeked, free from the confines of electronics, while adults laugh and joke adds a luster to the whole “living in the great outdoors” thing. This is the part of camping that I would boldly place under the column labeled FUN.


Then we went to bed.

Jenni had given me her sleeping bag, which just so happened to be named Big Agnes, along with a thermal pad to go under it. The thermal pad actually tucked into Big Agnes and kept me warm from underneath. When I climbed into Big Agnes that first night, I had high expectations. “I will heretofore sleep like a baby,” I thought as I nestled in deep, and indeed, I quickly fell asleep that first night.

I woke up at 2:00 when a raccoon (one of satan’s sidekicks, undoubtably) tossed a metal pan off the picnic table behind us. I heard his evil laugh as he ran back into the trees. It was at this point that the whole sleeping thing eluded me for the rest of the trip.

Lee slept next to me in a different bag – a bag not named Big Agnes, which I think may have been part of the problem. He also slept on a thermal pad that seemed to be made of tin foil, so every time he moved (which was all. night. long.) it sounded as though he were thrashing on a pile of crumply aluminum. After the demon raccoon woke us all up, Lee left the tent to go to the bathroom. It was at this point that I realize the temperature had fallen significantly. My body was toasty warm (thank you Big Agnes) but my eyelashes were icicles.

This sweet girl hung in there with us crazy Americans.

This sweet girl hung in there with us crazy Americans.

Lee came back to the tent and began the process of settling into his sleeping bag. My husband is 6’2″. When you zip him up into a thin body bag, there’s bound to be a few issues with comfort. He pulled the zipper all the way up to his neck to get out of the cold, then I heard him thrashing. I looked over at him, and his gaze was fixed intently on the ceiling as he flopped around like a whale on a beach.

After a couple of minutes, I leaned over and hissed, “What the heck are you doing?! Can you please be quiet??” He looked at me as he continued to flop, his arms pinned to his sides, and the thermal tin foil under him shattering the silence of the campsite. A moment later he squirmed and tugged until his arm broke free of the bag and he thrust it in the air, his pants clutched firmly in his hand.

He looked at me as though he’d just won a prize. “It’s hot in this bag!” he stage whispered.

Then we both started laughing so uncontrollably we couldn’t breathe, and neither one of us slept the rest of the night. Nor did we sleep the second night, which was less comical than the first, but who’s keeping score?


So blessed to call these women friends.


This kid enjoyed the camping experience more than anyone else I think. He slept well and he got to play ball all weekend long. So this was basically his heaven.


A zipline = Good fun


She had such a great attitude all weekend.

In all, it was an awesome weekend, despite the loss of two night’s sleep. The kids had a blast, even “K,” though she wanted to make sure we were definitely planning on returning home to our warm beds on that second day when the temps hovered around the high 30’s and low 40’s.

Will we tent camp again? Definitely. Camping is a bit like childbirth, I’ve decided. Give yourself enough space and time from the experience and you forget just enough of the pain and turmoil to want to do it again. As long as I’ve got Big Agnes, a cup of strong coffee, and my husband to laugh at, I’ll be just fine…

Gone Camping

We are leaving shortly for a weekend long camping trip with friends. Our car is packed to the max, which kind of makes me feel like we’re doing camping wrong, but whatever. We’re not hiking to camp, so BRING ON THE CREATURE COMFORTS!

In lieu of an actual post, I thought I’d leave you with a little Jim Gaffigan for your weekend viewing. You can watch this, then laugh at us. Our sweet “K” has no idea what she’s in for…which makes this oddly even more exciting.

Happy Weekending!