• Hell and a Hand Basket

    I threw a party the other day and no one came. No, seriously. Not a single soul. So, what do two friends who showed up to a party when no one else did do…? We threw our own party. And it was quite fun! Now I don’t say these things for you to be like ‘oh poor, Wendy, she has no friends.’ No. Not true. I have plenty of friends. I’m not lonely. I’m not gonna go start singing on a French dock of my struggles in hopes of being turned into an award-winning musical. (Is that how Les Misérables goes…I’ve never seen it). No. I’m a big girl, and…

  • Noonday Collection Review!!

    Hi my name is Wendy and I buy cheap clothes. I don’t buy cheap accessories as they make my skin irritated and turn green, but clothes? The cheaper the better. I know I’m not alone in this and it’s not even that I’m just not aware. Oh, I’m totally aware my duds are the product of some overworked, underpaid child with small hands and an endless work ethic. When I was in high school my mom decided to go on a “I’m not buying anything made in China” kick. Oh yea. Try that one on for size. I swore as soon as I left the house and got my own…

  • Giving Up…Expectations.

    We’re different. I get it. I’ve fully accepted that about us. As a family, we’re not kind of weird, we’re like straight up weird. Even the weirdos think we’re weird. I’m ok with that. I’ve settled in. It’s our thing and we wear it well. But I have a hard time remembering that I really don’t care what other people think, especially when it comes to parenting and raising these weirdos. This week we started homeschooling again. We took a few weeks off while my son was gone and decided to get right back into the swing of things. Get em while they’re young. And fresh. So of course, that…

  • Privileged.

    I live a privileged life. I had no idea. No one ever told me. I just figured this was the way it was. And then I met people not like me. And I read about these people. And I studied them. I even met some in person. And they weren’t even from a different country or some faraway land where actual poor people live. No, they were my neighbors, and they became some of my friends. I’m a white girl from Long Island, New York. Now before you get all judg-y and think we lived in some big mansion on the island next to Gatsby, let me turn this ship…

  • They Said Having Kids Would be Fun…

    My favorite part about being a mom is that I’m shaping and molding a young mind, and it’s all up to me. Consequently, that is also the most terrifying part about being a mom. I mean clearly my kids are gonna be on a therapist’s couch one day, talking about how every night at 8pm mom would yell at them to “Go to Bed!” I blame Freud. That guy. What an a-hole. He blamed his mother for everything. Who gave that guy his first accreditation into the world of psychology. I mean why do we even know that mother-loving weirdo anyway…? So here I sit, one day after having visited…

  • Lines, Bubbles, and Zones

    As Americans we like things neat and tidy and orderly. We like our churches in buildings, our kids in schools, our poor to be dressed in rags and live in foreign countries, and we like lines. Party lines, denomination lines, and/or geographical lines. Take your pick. We happen to think we stopped drawing segregation lines in the sixties but go to any small town in any state and you’ll still find the “black-side of town.” So, what does that really say about us? Well, I don’t know about you, but I know what that says about me… I sure do live in a bubble of my own making. God has…

  • Wrestling + Disappointment

        Being a Christian sometimes means being a glutton for punishment. The more you dig in, the more you get dirt on your hands. The more dirt you get on your hands, the more you realize, sometimes life is shit. The word of the week is: Disappointment. I had this word in my head, and then a day or two later, my husband voiced the word I had been dwelling on. We’re just…disappointed. This is nothing new. We’ve been here before. We all have. But this time it is something even more beyond our control. Something big, and worse, abstract. I’m talking about the American church. We’ve had such…

  • Meet Me in the Middle

    I refuse to pick sides. I’m stubborn, I admit that. I had a free hour session with a wellness coach last weekend. She told me one of my strengths was being self-aware. I really appreciated her saying that. Now I’m not saying I’m gonna do anything about the things I know about myself, but at least I’m aware of them. I’ll likely be stubborn til the day I die. I’ll likely die cussing and have to explain my disrespect and unapproved french to whoever escorts me to and through those supposed pearly gates. (Personally I’d like to think they are more rhinestone-y, but maybe that’s just my personal preference). But…

  • How to Take a RELAXING Family Vacation…Wait, What?!?!?

    We’re on vacation. Again. What?!?! Oh yes. In grand San Antonio, Texas. This year we made the decision to have more experiences and adventures and spend less money on stuff we don’t need in order to make the latter a reality. How do we do it? Careful planning. Committed execution. Mostly on my part, but they humor me. Now I won’t bore you with another “How To Go To Blah blah blah” on a budget post. Those snores are for people with miles of time on Pinterest. Something I don’t think any of us actually have. I try to stay off the Pinterest blackhole of death as often as possible.…

  • Giving up…Doubt

    See this fabulous purple skirt. And these amazing purple Puma shoes. This is NOT what I wore to church on Sunday. Well, sort of. I wore everything but the shoes. Second guessing myself and being disappointed in my choice, I opted for ballet flats instead. Not as show-stopping, I know. So why did I do this to myself? Why didn’t I just wear the shoes I wanted to wear with the outfit I had already thought up in my head? One word: Doubt. Isn’t it funny how even down to the very last detail, like shoe options, doubt creeps in, and there you are, heading to church in the WRONG…