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Little Miss Momma

live

Did I Mention I’m Sicker Than a Dog?

February 11, 2011
Have we ever talked about how I don’t know how to be sick?
Like how I don’t know how to be productive when I’m sick…
Or how I think I can still do everything on my calender when I’m sick…
Or how I forget what day of the week it is when I’m sick…
Or how {unlike most sickies who lose their appetite}
I eat fast food three times a day when I’m sick…
Or how I look like a gargoyle when I’m sick…
Or how I fail at all my “wifely duties” when I’m sick…
No, I haven’t mentioned that before?

My house becomes chaos when I’m sick.
And right now I AM SICK.
And so is the hubby,
and so is the baby.

And this is what our house looks like when its sick:

This is on top of my dresser.


This is my nightstand–that’s my Jumbo Diet Pepsi with a shot of Dr. Pepper, and yes, those are my used tissues.


Here is one of many laundry piles that can be found in every room of the house.


Here is another {how about the irony of the pillow, huh}.


And here is another–except these are clean, because that’s how I put away the hubby’s clean clothes when I’m sick {or even when I’m not sick, oops}.


Here is the closest my bed has gotten to being made all week.


Here is what our unmade bed looks like today.


Check out the elephant humidifier on the night stand–a must when sick.


My kitchen table with greasy leftover chips from another fast food meal–because fast food always helps you overcome being sick, right?


And we have officially run out of toilet paper,
and are using baby wipes instead…which makes me think:
 why don’t I use baby wipes every day?
They are oh-so-soft with just the right amount of cucumber fragrance.


And this is where our poopy diapers live–because when I am sick, the trash can is just too far away.


And still no pedicure.


But I did make time for ONE worthwhile activity yesterday.
I packed up Baby W and walked to our local Trader Joe’s to get all the fixins for a healthy meal.
I loaded them up in my new
Burlap Market Tote from All Things Vintage,
and I walked home with good intentions of cooking some soup.



And then we had Taco Bell for dinner,
{Mexican pizza, no meat, add lettuce x 2}
instead of the soup,
which I never cooked.
57 Comments
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Ashley Stock

I'm Ashley. Sometimes I craft, occasionally I cook, everyday I write, and I'm always Momma. This is my blog. I keep it real while still seeing the rainbows and butterflies in all of life's lessons.

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  • hotpants™
    February 11, 2011

    The diaper pic kills me. We throw ours right outside the kitchen door into the garage when we're feeling lazy and/or it's late at night. I'm usually the one who grabs them all in the morning and takes them to the trash can since it's a few feet from my car. We do this when we're perfectly healthy so I feel ya.

    Reply
  • Bethany
    February 11, 2011

    You are pitiful! =) Get better soon!
    Love the place for the diapers!! lol!

    Reply
  • Suzi Q
    February 11, 2011

    Oh you! I just love your sicky face. We have the exact same humidifier and her name is Ethel. My house looks like this pretty often so….yeah…

    Reply
  • Audrey Crisp
    February 11, 2011

    You are hilarious! Hope you get feeling better pronto! I am the same way when I'm sick… I just watch TV and sleep all day! Although messy, I really enjoyed the little house tour! Too cute!

    Reply
  • 1ne Proud Mama
    February 11, 2011

    Oh no! Being sick sucks! I hope you all get better soon.
    Um…but can i say that the poopy diapers on the patio crack me up!

    Oh ya…and my toensils look like that ALL the time! Its very unfortunate!

    Reply
  • Dawn
    February 11, 2011

    hope you feel better soon! my bed and laundry and toenails look like that even when i'm not sick-lol! get lots of rest!

    Reply
  • Mindie Hilton
    February 11, 2011

    Hope you feel better. I had one of those, not feeling energetic enough to get out of my pjs kind of day too.

    Reply
  • Heidi Ferguson
    February 11, 2011

    I have been so sick all week too! And actually this is like the fourth illness I've had this YEAR (yes, 2011!) I'm just SICK of being SICK. I am all too familiar with the used tissues, running out of TP, and buying healthy food that doesn't get cooked. Sigh. Guess I'll never lose those last 10 baby weight pounds. Crap.

    Here's to getting better!

    Reply
  • Kari
    February 11, 2011

    I'm pretty sure it's impossible for you to look like a gargoyle. Every picture I've ever seen of you, you look PERFECT!! 🙂

    Get well, soon! Drink lots of orange juice (that's what my mom always tells me when I'm sick!)

    Reply
  • Lee Ann
    February 11, 2011

    Really hope you feel better soon!! It's no fun being sick, even though you write about it in a way that makes us smile!

    Reply
  • Jill
    February 11, 2011

    Yay to the winner!!
    and you get better fast!

    oh, you ever wonder where that saying sicker than a dog came from? That was my first thought when I saw your post today 🙂

    here's a link I found on yahoo answers…someone answered that question.

    http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20081114065529AAnGx6Y

    Reply
  • Jayna Rae
    February 11, 2011

    Feel better!!! That was our house last week. It ends. I promise.

    Reply
  • Jenna
    February 11, 2011

    I'm sorry you guys are sick! I hope everyone feels better soon.

    I love that you posted this. It's nice to see someone being really REAL.

    Reply
  • Michelle Life Buy The Beach
    February 11, 2011

    I can't believe you have no new pedi yet. Angelo says we have the same feet. His exact words. WOW that looks like your foot only smaller.

    Congrats winners and Hey I might have to get that bag for my farmers market shopping at the beach!

    Reply
  • While My Sailors Aweigh
    February 11, 2011

    Hilarious!! I love this post!! Hope you all start feeling better soon!! [:

    Reply
  • chinamommy
    February 11, 2011

    2 words: NETI POT!! Got rid of my nasty cold in 4, yes, FOUR DAYS!!! I should be their spokesperson, google it!
    That diaper pic CRACKED ME UP, I had to look twice to see what it was!
    Get well momma!!

    Reply
  • Free Pretty Things For You
    February 11, 2011

    all those other things you forget dont matter when your sick my love!!
    at least you dont forget your hilariousness when your sick!!
    Prayers coming your way!!!!!

    Reply
  • Free Pretty Things For You
    February 11, 2011

    all those other things you forget dont matter when your sick my love!!
    at least you dont forget your hilariousness when your sick!!
    Prayers coming your way!!!!!

    Reply
  • Shaeroe
    February 11, 2011

    I have been reading your blog for a while now, and just finally became a follower! This burlap bag is absolutely to die for. Hope you all feel better!

    Reply
  • Blessed Mommy of 2
    February 11, 2011

    I hope you and the fam feel better soon! You forgot to mention you are even funny when you are sick :o)

    Reply
  • Carly
    February 11, 2011

    omgee, i love the diapers.

    Reply
  • Erin @ Crafts and Sutch
    February 11, 2011

    Bless your sweet little heart! It's no fun being a sick momma! 🙁 Hope you all start to feeling better soon and ALL of our houses look like that when we are sick…diapers and all. 🙂

    Reply
  • AshleyMarie
    February 11, 2011

    I HATE being sick so I feel for you!! Hope you all get better soon. I love the pictures of your home, because even when you are sick your home still looks clean, I swear!!

    http://www.ashleymariefrederickson.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • readyornot
    February 11, 2011

    This post makes me feel so much better about myself, except for the fact that I do almost all these things when I am not sick….and your house is 10 times cleaner than mine. :-/ Not feeling so good about myself.

    Reply
  • Carmen @ Life with Sprinkles on Top
    February 11, 2011

    Poopy diapers get wrapped in plastic grocery bags and tossed out the back door until I put them in the big trash can. You'd think since I'm grandma I wouldn't have to do this but somehow it's become my job. Hmmm. Haha. Anyway…..feel better soon! It stinks when momma's sick! Nothing gets done.

    Reply
  • Jessica Rae
    February 11, 2011

    Hiiii!! I said I would write about it once I received the mustache necklace, so here it is!

    http://pupslove.blogspot.com/2011/02/pretty-awesome-accessory.html

    Hope you feel better! (P.S. Trader Joe's = Love)

    Reply
  • Kyle-Michelle-Kaylie
    February 11, 2011

    HAHAH! i love that you said you look like a gargoyle, who says that? haha. died laughing at the diapers pic, i even had to show my husband this post, just too funny. I have clean laundry piling up in the laundry room because I just have NOT been in the mood to fold or hang.
    Love to see posts like this to show that even you are not perfect.

    Reply
  • Jennie
    February 11, 2011

    Whenever I am sick, basically I consider myself practically dead and then I don't do anything. And I meander about my house in leggings and an old basketball T-Shirt and kinda give mouth-breathing, dead-eye zombie looks to anyone who even attempts to communicate with me. It's adorable.

    Reply
  • A.B.
    February 11, 2011

    I have a deep deep deep desire for all things white in my house. I'm impressed by how clean everything looks even while sick. Our bed doesn't look that ncie when NOT sick. And, that is also how I put away the hubs clean duds.

    I think I pretend to be sick to get me out of my duties.

    Reply
  • MELANIE
    February 11, 2011

    Omg girl I love you! You are so freakin cute! I thought I was the only one who throws diapers out the sliders. My garbage cans are like 30 feet away too. I love that you are so REAL with us ….that's a big thing for me. Get well soon…big hugs your way!

    Reply
  • [email protected]
    February 11, 2011

    Feel better soon. I always crave fast food when I am sick. My hubby thinks I am crazy. I think its cause when I am sick I sit in front of that tv all day and see all the yummy KFC and pizza ads. My appetite is definately not gone when I am sick.

    Reply
  • Jamie
    February 11, 2011

    That picture of the diapers out on your porch is hilarious. I'd love to do that, but my dogs would think they were snacks. I know that's gross, but…so are my dogs.

    Reply
  • Ashley
    February 11, 2011

    Hi I am fairly new follower climbing out or the LURKY waters and commenting, haha! You are so cute! I love the diapers they are my favorite part of your sick house tour. Keepin it real, nothing like it..makes you so relatable cause girl, we are ALL like that. Heck I have days when I am not even sick and feel like the house gets like that..whew! Love your blog and all your great tips! I think our little men might be similar in age, Ashton is 13 months..I haven't been here long enough to see how old your lil guy is…but i heart bed head too!!

    Reply
  • Comeca Jones
    February 11, 2011

    Hope you are well soon. What a big job Moms and wives have and we sure are reminded of that when she is too ill to keep organized.Fell better!

    Reply
  • xx B
    February 11, 2011

    Hey there 🙂
    I'm just starting to emerge from the shadows of blogland and just had to leave a comment to let you know that your blog is awesome! It's so real, so fresh and soo easy to relate. Would love you to pop over and visit my blog "eleventhirtyish.blogspot"
    Rest up and get better!
    Thanks a bunch xx

    Reply
  • Scribble Scrabble
    February 11, 2011

    I love all the honesty you show about being sick. It's amazing what happens to a house when there is something off.
    PS- I love the bit about fast food. There's nothing some McDonalds French Fries can't make happy!

    I hope you and your family feel better for the weekend!

    Reply
  • Katie
    February 11, 2011

    Ummm…. Your sick house is cleaner than my well house 😉

    Reply
  • The Dayleys
    February 11, 2011

    I'm grateful to know I'm not the only one whose home looks like this when sick {minus the diapers lol} Thanks for sharing!! Being sick is the worst!!

    Reply
  • Jess (hellowifeonline.com)
    February 11, 2011

    Being sick is the worst… and is made worse by the knowledge that you'll have a whole house to clean when you're well again. That's why I always milk it as long as possible… 🙂

    Reply
  • Stephanie D
    February 11, 2011

    It stinks when your sick and have to take care of a baby! I can relate to the diapers on the back porch. I'm too lazy to walk around the corner to the trash cans so Koopers poop diapers pile up a little on the back porch, until my older boys are playing outside and I make them put them in the trash.

    Reply
  • the momma (aka Shannon)
    February 11, 2011

    elephant humidifiers are not only a necessity when sick…but an absolute MUST when one is suffering from "pregnancy nose".
    i laughed so hard when i saw your humidifier…i just did a post last week showing my elephant sitting prominently on my bedside table. 🙂
    glad to know i'm not the only one out there sportin' a pachyderm and proud of it.

    Reply
  • Life with the Websters!
    February 11, 2011

    Poor girl! The clean design of your house makes it appear clean anyways, so you have nothing to worry about! And I love the bag that your groceries are in!! ADORABLE! 🙂

    Reply
  • nicole.
    February 11, 2011

    This was hilarious – but what my excuse if this stuff goes on why everyone in the house is HEALTHY.

    http://eandnreyes.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • Alison
    February 11, 2011

    loved this post!! I would love to know you in real life.. I think we would be great friends :)… hope you guys get better soon. Isnt it such a bummer when everyone is sick at once! I hate it! oh and that is so wierd.. the girl who made the tote and has that blog is a friend of mine.. it's a small world 🙂

    Reply
  • LilBuckarooDesigns
    February 11, 2011

    When I grow up I want to learn how to let my guard down more and realize it's okay to not be perfect and always have everything under control ( I never do- just always want people to think I do!) I want to be omay with keeping it real because your honesty is so refreshing and so real life! I really am trying to learn from you Ashley!! Feel better soon!

    Reply
  • Kassi @ Truly Lovely
    February 11, 2011

    Here's hoping you feel better soon!! The sickly photos were entertaining in the meantime though! 😉

    Reply
  • Candace
    February 11, 2011

    Not going to lie – you make a dirty house look good with those photography skills. 🙂

    Reply
  • Aimee K.
    February 12, 2011

    I'm so sorry you're all sick:( Hope you feel better soon!

    I wanted to let you know I gave you a blog award on my blog: http://ajcrazies.blogspot.com/2011/02/blog-awards.html. Go check it out!

    Reply
  • Jodi
    February 12, 2011

    It's always rough when the Mommy gets sick! I hope you feel better! And by the way, that's what our house looks like too when we are sick minus the poopy diaper picture, my daughter is 13! 🙂

    Take care.

    jodi

    Reply
  • Ani
    February 12, 2011

    hope you guys feel better soon!!! xoxo
    The husbands laundry in the chair made me feel like im not the only that does that!! lol… thanks

    Reply
  • Jamie K.
    February 12, 2011

    Brooke Anna @ Mommy Does… sent me your way!

    Reply
  • Lexie Loo & Dylan Too
    February 12, 2011

    I hope you all feel better soon!

    Reply
  • Lexie Loo & Dylan Too
    February 12, 2011

    I hope you all feel better soon!

    Reply
  • Tahnie
    February 12, 2011

    How is it that even when you are sick your house still looks amazing? Ha, I love it!

    Sookie also has that elephant humidifier. 🙂

    Reply
  • kerrykatiecakeskeb43
    February 13, 2011

    You poor thing! I hope you feel better soon – that soup really would help, you know! lol
    Hugs,
    Kerry

    Reply
  • Chrissy @ Boerman Ramblings
    February 13, 2011

    I am in the same boat as you…this cold is kicking my butt! hope you feel better soon.
    also when are you going to do a photo tour of your house. I love the snippets we get. Is everything in every room white?

    Reply
  • HERVE LEGER
    March 31, 2020

    Herve Leger, Oktoberfest outfit people tend to wear our collections together, as one piece. But I like them as separates; it’s almost cooler,” she says. “I would put this jacket with a pair of jeans or a work skirt. And of course it all but if you’re in L.A.

    Reply

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I'm Ashley. Sometimes blogger. Everyday oiler. Cozy homemaker. Milestones. Meltdowns. Life lessons of a momma-in-training.

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The Keeper of Lost Things by @ruthmariehogan This book was gifted to me over a year ago but I didn’t pick it up until last week, and I’m so sad i waited this long to read it. For me, this was a story that captures the lifetime impact of true love, sudden loss, and finding gratitude and purpose in our disappointment and grief so that we may continue to find (and give) joy in the life that remains for us to be lived. 

It’s so rare that a novel finds a way to capture the depths of grief without leaving me feeling down and depressed—but somehow, the author finds this perfect balance by sharing characters who made the brave decision to rise above their pain and continue spreading light and love into the world. I caught myself in tears, nodding my head, laughing out loud, and using my phone flashlight to finish “just one more chapter” well past bedtime. Told from the past and the present, this novel is a love story, a story of redemption, unlikely friendships, and a bit of mystery all in one.

Back Cover: Anthony Peardew is the Keeper of Lost Things. Once a celebrated author of short stories, now in his twilight years, Anthony has sought consolation from the long-ago loss of his fiancée by lovingly rescuing lost objects—the things others have dropped, misplaced, or accidently left behind. Realizing that he’s running out of time, he leaves his beautiful house and all the collected treasures to his unsuspecting assistant, Laura, the one person he trusts to fulfil his legacy and reunite his lost objects with their rightful owners. 

With an unforgettable cast of characters that includes a teenage girl with special powers, a handsome gardener, a fussy ghost, and an array of irresistible four-legged friends, The Keeper of Lost Things is a heartwarming read about second chances, endless possibilities and joyful discoveries.

📚 swipe and tell me which one to read next please 🙏
The Keeper of Lost Things by @ruthmariehogan This book was gifted to me over a year ago but I didn’t pick it up until last week, and I’m so sad i waited this long to read it. For me, this was a story that captures the lifetime impact of true love, sudden loss, and finding gratitude and purpose in our disappointment and grief so that we may continue to find (and give) joy in the life that remains for us to be lived. 

It’s so rare that a novel finds a way to capture the depths of grief without leaving me feeling down and depressed—but somehow, the author finds this perfect balance by sharing characters who made the brave decision to rise above their pain and continue spreading light and love into the world. I caught myself in tears, nodding my head, laughing out loud, and using my phone flashlight to finish “just one more chapter” well past bedtime. Told from the past and the present, this novel is a love story, a story of redemption, unlikely friendships, and a bit of mystery all in one.

Back Cover: Anthony Peardew is the Keeper of Lost Things. Once a celebrated author of short stories, now in his twilight years, Anthony has sought consolation from the long-ago loss of his fiancée by lovingly rescuing lost objects—the things others have dropped, misplaced, or accidently left behind. Realizing that he’s running out of time, he leaves his beautiful house and all the collected treasures to his unsuspecting assistant, Laura, the one person he trusts to fulfil his legacy and reunite his lost objects with their rightful owners. 

With an unforgettable cast of characters that includes a teenage girl with special powers, a handsome gardener, a fussy ghost, and an array of irresistible four-legged friends, The Keeper of Lost Things is a heartwarming read about second chances, endless possibilities and joyful discoveries.

📚 swipe and tell me which one to read next please 🙏
littlemissmomma
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The Keeper of Lost Things by @ruthmariehogan This book was gifted to me over a year ago but I didn’t pick it up until last week, and I’m so sad i waited this long to read it. For me, this was a story that captures the lifetime impact of true love, sudden loss, and finding gratitude and purpose in our disappointment and grief so that we may continue to find (and give) joy in the life that remains for us to be lived. It’s so rare that a novel finds a way to capture the depths of grief without leaving me feeling down and depressed—but somehow, the author finds this perfect balance by sharing characters who made the brave decision to rise above their pain and continue spreading light and love into the world. I caught myself in tears, nodding my head, laughing out loud, and using my phone flashlight to finish “just one more chapter” well past bedtime. Told from the past and the present, this novel is a love story, a story of redemption, unlikely friendships, and a bit of mystery all in one. Back Cover: Anthony Peardew is the Keeper of Lost Things. Once a celebrated author of short stories, now in his twilight years, Anthony has sought consolation from the long-ago loss of his fiancée by lovingly rescuing lost objects—the things others have dropped, misplaced, or accidently left behind. Realizing that he’s running out of time, he leaves his beautiful house and all the collected treasures to his unsuspecting assistant, Laura, the one person he trusts to fulfil his legacy and reunite his lost objects with their rightful owners.  With an unforgettable cast of characters that includes a teenage girl with special powers, a handsome gardener, a fussy ghost, and an array of irresistible four-legged friends, The Keeper of Lost Things is a heartwarming read about second chances, endless possibilities and joyful discoveries. 📚 swipe and tell me which one to read next please 🙏
5 days ago
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Summer Gratitude List (what are you grateful for)☀️ I’m grateful for the trees and the how suddenly the cool lake water grounds my soul back into my body. I’m grateful for the way Zuma nestles into the crook of my knees when we sleep and that Maverick still gets overjoyed by the smell of chicken dinos (from when Stevie would sneak him hers). I’m grateful for the Blue Jay visits (especially the one with extra fuzzy feathers and mohawk) and the rare swarm of dragon flies that interrupted our desert at sundown in the village. I’m grateful for the way the air smells up here, surprise thunderstorms, the sound of the breeze whistling through the pine trees and nighttime’s complete darkness so we can see the stars more brightly. I’m grateful for fresh water on my body and sun on my back. I’m grateful for still waters and heart shaped rocks. I’m grateful for his sideways smile, nightly food rubs and morning waffles. I’m grateful for washable rugs and freshly painted baseboards. I’m grateful for their courage and humor and dimpled smiles. I’m grateful for hope. I’m grateful for summer.
littlemissmomma
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Summer Gratitude List (what are you grateful for)☀️ I’m grateful for the trees and the how suddenly the cool lake water grounds my soul back into my body. I’m grateful for the way Zuma nestles into the crook of my knees when we sleep and that Maverick still gets overjoyed by the smell of chicken dinos (from when Stevie would sneak him hers). I’m grateful for the Blue Jay visits (especially the one with extra fuzzy feathers and mohawk) and the rare swarm of dragon flies that interrupted our desert at sundown in the village. I’m grateful for the way the air smells up here, surprise thunderstorms, the sound of the breeze whistling through the pine trees and nighttime’s complete darkness so we can see the stars more brightly. I’m grateful for fresh water on my body and sun on my back. I’m grateful for still waters and heart shaped rocks. I’m grateful for his sideways smile, nightly food rubs and morning waffles. I’m grateful for washable rugs and freshly painted baseboards. I’m grateful for their courage and humor and dimpled smiles. I’m grateful for hope. I’m grateful for summer.
1 week ago
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2/4
Always in motion. That’s me. It’s one of my greatest assets AND my fatal flaw. I get a lot done. I’m generally efficient. I’m task oriented. I work hard and get results, in my home and in my work. But I also burn out. Get cranky and impatient. Sacrifice self care. Break promises to myself. And fall into the dangerous trap of measuring my worth and value against how “productive” I am. Left unchecked, these tendencies quickly become a vicious cycle of extreme productivity followed by a sudden halt due to burnout with a side of self-loathing that I’m not doing, making, writing, working, organizing enough. Do I know that my inherent self-worth is NOT in fact measured by how productive I am? Yes, i most certainly do! But for so many years I didn’t, and I’ve learned it can take a long time to retrain your brain to pause, breathe and spend more time on “being” rather than “doing”. Today I set an alarm for myself, indicating it was time to shut down the “productivity” portion of my brain and step into the “being present and grateful” portion of my brain. FYI, it will take constant effort for several minutes for me to not try and find some way to turn my “being present” time into an opportunity to “be productive”—but I’m trying SO hard and I’m getting better, for myself and my family. Scheduling this time helps me keep this promise to myself. Just me?🙈 #enneagram3
littlemissmomma
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Always in motion. That’s me. It’s one of my greatest assets AND my fatal flaw. I get a lot done. I’m generally efficient. I’m task oriented. I work hard and get results, in my home and in my work. But I also burn out. Get cranky and impatient. Sacrifice self care. Break promises to myself. And fall into the dangerous trap of measuring my worth and value against how “productive” I am. Left unchecked, these tendencies quickly become a vicious cycle of extreme productivity followed by a sudden halt due to burnout with a side of self-loathing that I’m not doing, making, writing, working, organizing enough. Do I know that my inherent self-worth is NOT in fact measured by how productive I am? Yes, i most certainly do! But for so many years I didn’t, and I’ve learned it can take a long time to retrain your brain to pause, breathe and spend more time on “being” rather than “doing”. Today I set an alarm for myself, indicating it was time to shut down the “productivity” portion of my brain and step into the “being present and grateful” portion of my brain. FYI, it will take constant effort for several minutes for me to not try and find some way to turn my “being present” time into an opportunity to “be productive”—but I’m trying SO hard and I’m getting better, for myself and my family. Scheduling this time helps me keep this promise to myself. Just me?🙈 #enneagram3
1 week ago
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3/4
Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head.  I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort.  I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others.  I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. 

And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). 

I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug.  I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root.  Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction.

Do I realize how strange this sounds?  Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder?  Yes, I do.  But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. 

Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together.  Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head.  I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort.  I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others.  I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. 

And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). 

I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug.  I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root.  Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction.

Do I realize how strange this sounds?  Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder?  Yes, I do.  But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. 

Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together.  Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head.  I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort.  I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others.  I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. 

And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). 

I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug.  I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root.  Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction.

Do I realize how strange this sounds?  Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder?  Yes, I do.  But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. 

Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together.  Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
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Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head. I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort. I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others. I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug. I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root. Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction. Do I realize how strange this sounds? Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder? Yes, I do. But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together. Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
2 weeks ago
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The Keeper of Lost Things by @ruthmariehogan This book was gifted to me over a year ago but I didn’t pick it up until last week, and I’m so sad i waited this long to read it. For me, this was a story that captures the lifetime impact of true love, sudden loss, and finding gratitude and purpose in our disappointment and grief so that we may continue to find (and give) joy in the life that remains for us to be lived. 

It’s so rare that a novel finds a way to capture the depths of grief without leaving me feeling down and depressed—but somehow, the author finds this perfect balance by sharing characters who made the brave decision to rise above their pain and continue spreading light and love into the world. I caught myself in tears, nodding my head, laughing out loud, and using my phone flashlight to finish “just one more chapter” well past bedtime. Told from the past and the present, this novel is a love story, a story of redemption, unlikely friendships, and a bit of mystery all in one.

Back Cover: Anthony Peardew is the Keeper of Lost Things. Once a celebrated author of short stories, now in his twilight years, Anthony has sought consolation from the long-ago loss of his fiancée by lovingly rescuing lost objects—the things others have dropped, misplaced, or accidently left behind. Realizing that he’s running out of time, he leaves his beautiful house and all the collected treasures to his unsuspecting assistant, Laura, the one person he trusts to fulfil his legacy and reunite his lost objects with their rightful owners. 

With an unforgettable cast of characters that includes a teenage girl with special powers, a handsome gardener, a fussy ghost, and an array of irresistible four-legged friends, The Keeper of Lost Things is a heartwarming read about second chances, endless possibilities and joyful discoveries.

📚 swipe and tell me which one to read next please 🙏
The Keeper of Lost Things by @ruthmariehogan This book was gifted to me over a year ago but I didn’t pick it up until last week, and I’m so sad i waited this long to read it. For me, this was a story that captures the lifetime impact of true love, sudden loss, and finding gratitude and purpose in our disappointment and grief so that we may continue to find (and give) joy in the life that remains for us to be lived. 

It’s so rare that a novel finds a way to capture the depths of grief without leaving me feeling down and depressed—but somehow, the author finds this perfect balance by sharing characters who made the brave decision to rise above their pain and continue spreading light and love into the world. I caught myself in tears, nodding my head, laughing out loud, and using my phone flashlight to finish “just one more chapter” well past bedtime. Told from the past and the present, this novel is a love story, a story of redemption, unlikely friendships, and a bit of mystery all in one.

Back Cover: Anthony Peardew is the Keeper of Lost Things. Once a celebrated author of short stories, now in his twilight years, Anthony has sought consolation from the long-ago loss of his fiancée by lovingly rescuing lost objects—the things others have dropped, misplaced, or accidently left behind. Realizing that he’s running out of time, he leaves his beautiful house and all the collected treasures to his unsuspecting assistant, Laura, the one person he trusts to fulfil his legacy and reunite his lost objects with their rightful owners. 

With an unforgettable cast of characters that includes a teenage girl with special powers, a handsome gardener, a fussy ghost, and an array of irresistible four-legged friends, The Keeper of Lost Things is a heartwarming read about second chances, endless possibilities and joyful discoveries.

📚 swipe and tell me which one to read next please 🙏
littlemissmomma
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The Keeper of Lost Things by @ruthmariehogan This book was gifted to me over a year ago but I didn’t pick it up until last week, and I’m so sad i waited this long to read it. For me, this was a story that captures the lifetime impact of true love, sudden loss, and finding gratitude and purpose in our disappointment and grief so that we may continue to find (and give) joy in the life that remains for us to be lived. It’s so rare that a novel finds a way to capture the depths of grief without leaving me feeling down and depressed—but somehow, the author finds this perfect balance by sharing characters who made the brave decision to rise above their pain and continue spreading light and love into the world. I caught myself in tears, nodding my head, laughing out loud, and using my phone flashlight to finish “just one more chapter” well past bedtime. Told from the past and the present, this novel is a love story, a story of redemption, unlikely friendships, and a bit of mystery all in one. Back Cover: Anthony Peardew is the Keeper of Lost Things. Once a celebrated author of short stories, now in his twilight years, Anthony has sought consolation from the long-ago loss of his fiancée by lovingly rescuing lost objects—the things others have dropped, misplaced, or accidently left behind. Realizing that he’s running out of time, he leaves his beautiful house and all the collected treasures to his unsuspecting assistant, Laura, the one person he trusts to fulfil his legacy and reunite his lost objects with their rightful owners.  With an unforgettable cast of characters that includes a teenage girl with special powers, a handsome gardener, a fussy ghost, and an array of irresistible four-legged friends, The Keeper of Lost Things is a heartwarming read about second chances, endless possibilities and joyful discoveries. 📚 swipe and tell me which one to read next please 🙏
5 days ago
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Summer Gratitude List (what are you grateful for)☀️ I’m grateful for the trees and the how suddenly the cool lake water grounds my soul back into my body. I’m grateful for the way Zuma nestles into the crook of my knees when we sleep and that Maverick still gets overjoyed by the smell of chicken dinos (from when Stevie would sneak him hers). I’m grateful for the Blue Jay visits (especially the one with extra fuzzy feathers and mohawk) and the rare swarm of dragon flies that interrupted our desert at sundown in the village. I’m grateful for the way the air smells up here, surprise thunderstorms, the sound of the breeze whistling through the pine trees and nighttime’s complete darkness so we can see the stars more brightly. I’m grateful for fresh water on my body and sun on my back. I’m grateful for still waters and heart shaped rocks. I’m grateful for his sideways smile, nightly food rubs and morning waffles. I’m grateful for washable rugs and freshly painted baseboards. I’m grateful for their courage and humor and dimpled smiles. I’m grateful for hope. I’m grateful for summer.
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Summer Gratitude List (what are you grateful for)☀️ I’m grateful for the trees and the how suddenly the cool lake water grounds my soul back into my body. I’m grateful for the way Zuma nestles into the crook of my knees when we sleep and that Maverick still gets overjoyed by the smell of chicken dinos (from when Stevie would sneak him hers). I’m grateful for the Blue Jay visits (especially the one with extra fuzzy feathers and mohawk) and the rare swarm of dragon flies that interrupted our desert at sundown in the village. I’m grateful for the way the air smells up here, surprise thunderstorms, the sound of the breeze whistling through the pine trees and nighttime’s complete darkness so we can see the stars more brightly. I’m grateful for fresh water on my body and sun on my back. I’m grateful for still waters and heart shaped rocks. I’m grateful for his sideways smile, nightly food rubs and morning waffles. I’m grateful for washable rugs and freshly painted baseboards. I’m grateful for their courage and humor and dimpled smiles. I’m grateful for hope. I’m grateful for summer.
1 week ago
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Always in motion. That’s me. It’s one of my greatest assets AND my fatal flaw. I get a lot done. I’m generally efficient. I’m task oriented. I work hard and get results, in my home and in my work. But I also burn out. Get cranky and impatient. Sacrifice self care. Break promises to myself. And fall into the dangerous trap of measuring my worth and value against how “productive” I am. Left unchecked, these tendencies quickly become a vicious cycle of extreme productivity followed by a sudden halt due to burnout with a side of self-loathing that I’m not doing, making, writing, working, organizing enough. Do I know that my inherent self-worth is NOT in fact measured by how productive I am? Yes, i most certainly do! But for so many years I didn’t, and I’ve learned it can take a long time to retrain your brain to pause, breathe and spend more time on “being” rather than “doing”. Today I set an alarm for myself, indicating it was time to shut down the “productivity” portion of my brain and step into the “being present and grateful” portion of my brain. FYI, it will take constant effort for several minutes for me to not try and find some way to turn my “being present” time into an opportunity to “be productive”—but I’m trying SO hard and I’m getting better, for myself and my family. Scheduling this time helps me keep this promise to myself. Just me?🙈 #enneagram3
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Always in motion. That’s me. It’s one of my greatest assets AND my fatal flaw. I get a lot done. I’m generally efficient. I’m task oriented. I work hard and get results, in my home and in my work. But I also burn out. Get cranky and impatient. Sacrifice self care. Break promises to myself. And fall into the dangerous trap of measuring my worth and value against how “productive” I am. Left unchecked, these tendencies quickly become a vicious cycle of extreme productivity followed by a sudden halt due to burnout with a side of self-loathing that I’m not doing, making, writing, working, organizing enough. Do I know that my inherent self-worth is NOT in fact measured by how productive I am? Yes, i most certainly do! But for so many years I didn’t, and I’ve learned it can take a long time to retrain your brain to pause, breathe and spend more time on “being” rather than “doing”. Today I set an alarm for myself, indicating it was time to shut down the “productivity” portion of my brain and step into the “being present and grateful” portion of my brain. FYI, it will take constant effort for several minutes for me to not try and find some way to turn my “being present” time into an opportunity to “be productive”—but I’m trying SO hard and I’m getting better, for myself and my family. Scheduling this time helps me keep this promise to myself. Just me?🙈 #enneagram3
1 week ago
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Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head.  I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort.  I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others.  I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. 

And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). 

I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug.  I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root.  Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction.

Do I realize how strange this sounds?  Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder?  Yes, I do.  But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. 

Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together.  Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head.  I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort.  I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others.  I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. 

And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). 

I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug.  I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root.  Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction.

Do I realize how strange this sounds?  Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder?  Yes, I do.  But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. 

Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together.  Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head.  I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort.  I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others.  I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. 

And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). 

I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug.  I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root.  Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction.

Do I realize how strange this sounds?  Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder?  Yes, I do.  But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. 

Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together.  Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
littlemissmomma
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Even now, as I carefully consider where to begin, my hands reach back to the familiar and preferred pulling spot just in front of the crown of my head. I carefully feel each hair between my index finger and thumb, noting the texture and sensitivity on my scalp before selecting the perfect one to pull–the hair that will bring me the greatest surge of momentary release and comfort. I prefer the coarse hairs, the awkward, thicker strands that stand out from the others. I’ll often search through several pieces before settling on one that feels just right. And that’s what I do tonight, as I sit down to write this blog post on the very topic of my ongoing battle with #trichotillomania (the irresistible urge to pull out hair from one’s scalp, eyebrows, lashes or other areas of the body, despite trying to stop). I find a hair that feels just right, wrap it in the grip I have perfected over 30 years, and I give it a gentle tug. I know even before looking at it, I’ve pulled it out by the root. Perfect. Getting the root means that this hair will last me at least another 1-2 minutes of satisfaction. Do I realize how strange this sounds? Do I cringe as I type the bizarre truths of my disorder? Yes, I do. But I share them anyway, because I spent far too many years of my life feeling alone in my pulling, filled with shame surrounding the secret urges to pull out my hair by the root, over and over again. And ultimately, this shame and secrecy has only led to more pulling. It would be decades before I learned that surrendering to the truth of my disorder actually gave me the most control over it. Perhaps then, this is where I open my story…with those early shame-filled moments when I recognized that my behavior made me different from others and the lies I told myself about what being “different” must have certainly meant about my value–that I was bad, broken, weak, unworthy and I needed to hide these tragic truths of my character behind posturing and performing the role of a kid who had it all together. Yes, I think this feels like the best place to begin (visit my blog for full story, link in profile). www.littlemissmomma.com
2 weeks ago
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@littlemissmomma
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