Guest post: Proud to be you

I am insanely excited to share with you the voice of my blogosphere friend Deborah Bryan. Deb and I e-met through a mutual friend a few years ago, and ever since I have felt a deep connection to her that belies the fact we’ve met in person only once before. 

Peeper and Littler J were much more interested in each other than Prince Puckler's ice cream!
Peeper and Littler J were much more interested in each other than Prince Puckler’s ice cream!

If you don’t already follow her, do yourself a solid and zip over to The Monster in Your Closet stat. Well, right after reading this.

Today you’re wearing a dress with a broken zipper.

That’s just like you.

Wait, that didn’t sound as nice as I meant it.

Let me start over.

Today you wore a lovely dress you haven’t been able to wear for a few months. You were delighted to see how pretty you look in it, but not so delighted when the zipper in back burst all the way to your waist while you leaned over to put on your toddler’s shoes two hours later.

“+%÷@#!” you thought, before deciding—a split second later—that the best immediate solution was to be thankful for your long sweater. You’ve used binder clips to deal with cleavage issues, but they’re harder to use for back wardrobe mishaps without a girlfriend close at hand. There were other options, of course, but this was the one you quickly determined best in light of the circumstances.

Thank goodness for long sweaters! Courtesy yours, you made it to work on time and looking fine.

Do you see the compliment yet? No?

Okay, I’m getting there! Read more

Happy Mother’s Day to Me: A look in the (rearview) mirror

This guest post is by Anna Godby, writer who also blogs about gardening with your family at Tiny Trowelers. In this Happy Mother’s Day to Me series, mothers are celebrating themselves for the dedicated, loving, tireless mamas they are—and the important lessons we sometimes learn when peeking into the rearview mirror. Check out all the posts in the series!


Snowflake after snowflake lands on the windshield. It’s impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of my parents’ Chevy Astro, ice covering everything in the darkness.  Yet somehow, I knew we would get home safely. After all, my dad was driving so I knew we would be fine and fell asleep.

Fast forward two decades, and I’m now the one clutching the wheel in terror as the snow refuses to let up and I have no idea where the lanes are. My heart is pounding as I envision a hundred ways for us to go off the road and wreck. Each time the radio cuts in with a weather and traffic update I clench my teeth in fear, especially for my two young children in the backseat.

I steal a glance in the rearview mirror to find them both sound asleep, snuggled in their car seats. Suddenly, a warm feeling of relief passes through me as I realize that my children put their blind faith in me just like I did with my own parents all those years ago. We made it home safe and sound.

Mother's Day driving home Read more