A few weeks ago I overheard a lady say that she doesn’t like brownies.

First, I was like, “Wha?!?”

Then I was like, “WHA?!?”

Because brownies? They are their own food group, like soft pretzels. And cheese balls.

Who doesn’t like brownies?

(Okay, so there are occasional brownies that just aren’t great – but brownies, over all, are excellent).

After a few days of being dumbfounded, I came to terms with the reality of Brownie Dislike.

You see… I don’t care for cookies.

I’ll eat them because I’m the kind of person that stuffs fattening food in my face whether it tastes good or not, but I don’t really like cookies.

Chocolate chip? Oatmeal raisin? Snickerdoodles?


4/365 - That's the way the cookie tumbles!

So I have come to the conclusion that if I don’t like cookies, it must be possible for someone to not like brownies. I guess there are more brownies in the world for me and more cookies in the world for her.

Unless she dislikes brownies and cookies, in which case, I’m back to being dumbfounded.

The other day I was walking past the kids’ room during Daisy’s nap when I heard Daisy stirring. I went inside and knelt down next to her bed.

She woke up and just stared at me like this:

Wake up

It reminded me of when she was a tiny baby with deep, dark eyes that could see right into my soul.

It’s been a long time since she looked at me like that.

My kids are both Daddy’s Boy and Daddy’s Girl.

I remember, before I had kids, my sister-in-law telling me how absolutely devastated she would be if her kids liked their dad more than they liked her.

Even without kids, I knew I’d never feel that way.

I love seeing how much my kids love their dad. They will choose him over me every time, and I don’t mind one bit. To me it’s just a reaffirmation that I married a fantastic man.


Last year, I gave a little mini tour of my house. Not because my house is magazine-worthy or anything like that – I just thought it would be fun for you to see. When I first introduced the Fluent Brittish Home Tour, I said I was going to show you five rooms of my house. After four rooms, I changed my mind, and went back to edit the original post to cover my tracks.

Carrisa caught me, however; and totally called me out on it.

Now, several months later, I’m going to make it up to her by showing you my bedroom.

First, a brief history of my bedroom:

When we bought our house, our bedroom was painted beige – the walls, the ceiling, the baseboards… everything. I hated it. One day I came home from work and painted the ceiling white whilst watching Oprah give away free cars (funny how our minds remember things like that, eh?) A few months later I painted the walls blue. I loved it for a minute, and then I realized I had accidentally created an Americana color scheme since I had a red comforter. I ended up just letting my room go.

It became the arm pit of our house.

A few weeks ago, Scotty had a day off work, and we got motivated to do a mini bedroom makeover. We had less than $100 to do it, so our options were slim. Our priority was the paint. I really wanted something light, serene, and versatile, so I chose the color Oyster in satin Behr Ultra. Basically, it’s cream, which I would have hated five years ago, but I’ve changed my ways. I didn’t want to use paint that would become “color complicated.” Also, since our room is quite small, and our furniture is quite large, I needed the décor to be simple. This project was less about the “look” and more about the “feeling.”

Here’s the end result:

Bedroom 1

(I decided to just photograph it as it really looks rather than move cords and fluff pillows to impress you. Note the red crayon on the bed post – you’re welcome)

All of the accessories were chosen to create a feeling of peace and calm.

On my side of the bed, I hung a small shelf with framed subway art declaring “We can do heard things,” (yes, I understand the innuendo there – keep it to yourself) and one of our engagement photos.

Bedroom 2

On one of the walls, I hung a picture of the Salt Lake Temple, where Scotty and I were married, and photos of our babies. Swoon!

Bedroom 3

Over the dresser, I hung some canvas art – again remaining nice and calm without complicated color.

Bedroom 4

Then on the dresser, there is a picture of Christ lifting Peter from the water – a depiction of something that has special meaning for Scotty and me.

Bedroom 5

It’s definitely not anything unique or eye-catching, but for the first time EVER, I love being in my room. Forest-green carpet and all!

(You didn’t think I would talk about a room in my house without mentioning the forest-green berber, did you?)

My daughter eats her boogers.

I know this isn’t uncommon among children, but it’s new to me. You don’t have to believe me, but I never ate my boogers. I tasted my snot a few times, but I never had any impulse to eat a booger.


I promise.

Nicky, surprisingly, also never ate boogers.

Again, you don’t have to believe me (but do believe me – Nicky and I are not booger-eaters).

When Daisy started casually eating her boogers, I was all sorts of grossed out. If it had been the boy-child, it wouldn’t have phased me – boys are natural booger eaters, right? But it had to be my GIRL!!!

The first thing I did upon this discovery was ask Scotty if he ever ate his boogers. He did, of course, and he was in complete disbelief when I told him that I never ate my boogers. To him it makes perfect sense for a child to want to eat her boogers, and he refused to believe that I never ate boogers.

“How else could you get rid of them?” he asked.

“Uhhh…. Wipe them somewhere! Duh!” I said.

So I went forth and tried to get Daisy to stop eating her boogers. This only made her more intrigued by booger-eating because she started thinking it was freaking hilarious. I would say, “Ew! Don’t eat your boogers! Yucky!” and she would put the booger in her mouth ever more swiftly and laugh hysterically at herself. Then I tried, “Don’t eat boogers! They’ll make you sick!” but again, that just makes it funny.

I don’t understand why I’m not convincing!

I use my serious face and everything!

So after several failed attempts at reasoning with her, I decided to try distracting her. Any time she’d put her finger in her nose, I’d try diverting her attention to something else (this is something I read about somewhere in relation to nose-picking and filed the info away for when my kids started digging for treasures) (or maybe I made it up – I don’t really know).

Yeah… it didn’t work.

So I surrendered and decided to just let her eat her boogers.

Whatever, child! Eat all you want. I’m not fighting the booger battle anymore.

So if you see my in the grocery store with my little booger-eater, go ahead… be disgusted.

I don’t care anymore.

Nose Picker

Sometimes I think that there should be awards for split-ends.

Like this one:

Split End

How do I not have a trophy for that?

For Valentine’s Day this year we gave our kids something special: a trampoline.

And by “trampoline” I totally mean “old, free mattress.”

Trampoline 3

(Well, a box spring, if you want to get technical).

Our kids just got hand-me-down bunk beds, and they don’t require box springs, so what else is there to do with an unnecessary box spring?

Trampoline 2

I kid you not, this is the best thing I’ve ever done!

Trampoline 1


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