Most of the time you'll find me elbow deep in dirty diapers, sporting two-day-old hair (and pajamas) crying out to God that "I just can't handle it."
I'm a sweet-tea sippin' Southern girl recently transplanted from Portland to the Wild West of Wyoming. I love Jesus, my hubs, my girls, and (sometimes) our dog.
I write about my life... whether it's crafting, cooking, or just plain messy.
I do not apologize for my opinions...unless they are completely wrong.
I lived in a camper van for 3 months with a 6'4" man, a 8-month-old, and an 80lb mutt while we toured around the US one summer. It was a blast.
I like pie. Pie in the face any day. I'd like to say that I would pick fruit over pie as a dessert, but it'd be nothing but a lie. I'm a fat kid...and fat kids will always pick pie.
My room was always tidy growing up. I had a place for everything. My dolls were incredibly organized. There was a box for their heads, a box for their torsos, a box for their arms, and a box for their legs...true story.
I've learned that blue marker on a white couch is washable, dirty fingernails are the standard 2-year-old manicure, broken eggs are a small price for family-made breakfast...no momma is without a worry, no woman is without a wound, every one of us is broken, and He still calls us His own.
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