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Little Miss Momma

live

Hello Summer

June 29, 2011
Hello Summer
{inspired by Lisa Leonard’s Hello Monday Series}


Hello chubby cheeks, and melted sticky popsicle that collects in the creases of your neck.


Hello tan Summer {and shoe-less} toddler toes.



Hello to my go-to Summer shoes.



Hello local kiddos learning to sail.


And hello crazy lake mansions that I love to gawk at {and imagine I live in}.


Hello to a Baby W who would love to go swimming all day long.


And hello to a baby who prefers falling in the pool rather than jumping.


Hello to the hammock that I have good intentions of finally using.


Hello old cement duck named Gladys that we have to visit every day, so that Baby W can point and say Guck, Guck.


Hello to Baby W’s best buddies.
And hello to the Buzz Lightyear that was mine when I was a kid {top shelf, far left, standing up}.


Hello evening game night with hot chocolate and whipped cream on the back patio.


Hello new-fangled Monopoly board {I miss the classic version}.


Hello to my favorite Monopoly properties.


Hello to the braggy winner of game night and hello to the poor sport behind the camera.

And Hello to our Summer fun list:

1. Walk to the lake and feed the ducks
2. Ride bikes around the lake
3. Go to the Santa Barbara zoo
4. Go to Underwood Family Farms and pick berries
5. Learn to bake a homemade pie with said berries
6. Teach Baby W to swim
7. Get shaved ice
8. Build a sand castle at Zuma beach
9. Go on a picnic
10. Make a tent in the living room and watch a movie
11. Go on a night walk
12. Make water balloons
13. Finger paint
14. Take Baby W fishing
15. Throw fish back in lake
16. Have a back “patio” BBQ with friends
17. Get a wagon
18. Play in the sprinklers
19. Visit the fire station
20. Take Baby W to pick out a new book at Barnes & Noble
*what am I forgetting?

What’s on your Summer list?
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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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  • LaynahRose
    June 29, 2011

    Very cool that he plays with your buzzlightyear! And, I'm in love with your summer fun list (Zuma beach is awesome!) I think I may copy it and do everything on there as well 🙂

    Reply
  • Tincha
    June 29, 2011

    As always, beautiful photos! 🙂

    Reply
  • Nicole @ Miss Mommy
    June 29, 2011

    Have I told you lately, that I love you?. I seriously love your posts. How kissable are Baby W's lips in that first picture?!

    I would be absolutely honoured if you followed me and would probably faint with disbelief!!!

    You are such an inspiration to me, and if I am half the woman you are I would be SOOO lucky. xx

    Reply
  • Keri-Anne
    June 29, 2011

    what a perfect post. little baby W is just so cute x

    Reply
  • maduixetes surprise
    June 29, 2011

    lovely photos!
    http://maduixetessurprise.blogspot.com
    xoxo

    Reply
  • Casey Martinez
    June 29, 2011

    your list reminds me of when I lived in CA because I did all of those things on a regular basis more or less. Kinda miss having all those things so close by! Love your pics and the fun things you have been doing!

    Reply
  • Jessica @ jessicaNdesigns
    June 29, 2011

    LOVED this post!! It inspired me to make a summer list! I might have to share it on my blog soon! Hope you are well!! xoxo

    Reply
  • Lexie Loo & Dylan Too
    June 29, 2011

    Wonderful post with perfect summer pictures! It made me smile!

    Reply
  • Lexie Loo & Dylan Too
    June 29, 2011

    Wonderful post with perfect summer pictures! It made me smile!

    Reply
  • wildchild
    June 29, 2011

    goodness, look at those puffy baby lips! so cute. and amen for shoeless, tan summer feet. that's my favorite part of summer i think. which is saying a lot cause summer is my favorite time ever.

    Reply
  • MellyB
    June 29, 2011

    Hello crazy lake mansions indeed. Hook me up with one of those and I swear, SWEAR, I won't ever ask for anything again.

    Backyard game night looks pretty wonderful. I might settle for one of those.

    Reply
  • Jill @ A Mom With A Lesson Plan
    June 29, 2011

    I need a game night…

    Reply
  • [email protected]
    June 29, 2011

    What a fun summer post! I'm loving the duck…to cute! I wish I lived by sailboaters…I think it would be so relaxing to watch them!

    Reply
  • Darby
    June 29, 2011

    I love that you & your husband play Monopoly! My hub & I used to play all the time and actually played a couple nights ago (he won, too.. of course)

    This post is awesome and is inspiring me to make my own Summer list 🙂

    Reply
  • pakosta
    June 29, 2011

    my list:
    water park
    downtown chicago
    IL state fair
    catch fireflies
    beach
    bike rides & park
    water balloons
    smore's
    read aloud together (working on the Mandie series now)
    and so much more!
    we love summer!

    Reply
  • Life on Pause
    June 29, 2011

    Ashley, I think the only thing you're missing is sidewalk chalk time…unless Baby W would eat it. I think that's my favorite part of summer, is spending all day on the warm side walk drawing, then waiting to see how long it can hold out before the sprinklers or rain wash it away. Then, you just start again =)

    ~Bri

    Reply
  • Alysson
    June 29, 2011

    such a fun post!! It looks like you're enjoying your summer with your men 🙂 LOVE your summer list..motivated me to make my own! XO

    http://simplicityisultimatesophistication.wordpress.com/

    Reply
  • jessica lynn
    June 29, 2011

    best of luck with your summer fun list! looks like a great time!

    Reply
  • Maeve Rachel
    June 29, 2011

    This is so amazing! Looks like you have a great summer planned! =)

    Reply
  • Hayley
    June 29, 2011

    The fact that you have a Buzz Light Year Toy from your childhood makes me feel totally old. And I am totally not. 🙂

    Summer fun is nice. I am about to close this laptop and go get in on some myself.

    Reply
  • Elizabeth
    June 29, 2011

    Awesome pics, Ashley!

    {{Side note: I was curious if you could share the in's and out's of the BlogHer network…I think I'm interested in it, that is if you have time. Thanks so much!!}}

    Reply
  • Jessi
    June 29, 2011

    -Have a baby
    -start running again

    🙂

    Reply
  • james @ agirlcalledjames
    June 29, 2011

    love love love your pictures and your list looks like a lot of fun.

    Reply
  • Grahangela
    June 29, 2011

    I just found your blog after visiting "The Shine Project" and I love it! Absolutely adorable photos. Summer in So. Cal really is the best. 🙂
    ~ Angela
    grahamandangela.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • genevieve
    June 29, 2011

    I absolutely adore that first shot of the sailboats. What a fun look into your summer days! I'm loving your summer fun list, too: "play in the sprinklers". PERFECT. My to do list? Explore Philadelphia and take a million and one pictures (that latter is not quite literal).

    Reply
  • Maria-Isabel @ Agape Love Designs
    June 29, 2011

    what a cute post! I love this idea! 🙂

    How cool that Baby W plays with your old Buzz Lightyear!
    My daughter plays with my OLD strawberry short cake doll from when I was a kid. I got it from my great grandmother (who has now passed away) for Christmas when I was 9! My daughter is now 8.. and its crazy to think I have had it so long.

    I used to LOVE strawberry short cake, she was my FAVORITE cartoon ever. 🙂

    Great Summer list:
    Im loving the last one barnes and noble! When I lived in washington I would take my kids there, I LOVE how kid friendly it is! Since moving back to this small cowboy town in Cali we are not close to a B&N :(. I miss it!

    Reply
  • urbancraftmama.com
    June 29, 2011

    the twinkly lights outside your balcony are so fun! I can't play monopoly with my husband – he takes cocky winner to the next level (or i MAY just be the sorest loser out there…)

    Reply
  • Dyna Ly
    June 29, 2011

    What a wonderful idea! I am going to make my Summer to do list this year. I find myself trying to everything the last two weeks of summer when I start realizing Fall is fast approaching.

    BTW, I love your pictures!

    Reply
  • Nance Mommy
    June 29, 2011

    Hey Ashley, I noticed that you have fingerpainting on your list. Want a really fun recipe for scratch and sniff fingerpaint? And it makes the MOST vibrant paintings ever. Kool-Aid. That is right. You just put some kool-aid mix in a little dish and add just enough water to make it fingerpaint consistency. My kids love doing this. You could easily mark it off your list.

    http://www.mosscoveredpath.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • Toni
    June 29, 2011

    Wow, the lake is so pretty!

    make sure to enter my giveaway!!

    alwayshavejoy.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • Michelle {Daydream Believers}
    June 29, 2011

    Aw, what a fun post! It looks like you are having a beautiful summer! That lake is beautiful! 🙂 Have a happy week! Michelle

    Reply
  • What Sadie Did
    June 29, 2011

    This is wonderful, I love your activities. M bf and I mentioned that we must start playing games (Scrabble is our fav!) again as we haven't lately!

    Sadie x

    ~ Giveaway on my blog! http://whatsadiedid.blogspot.com/2011/06/very-first-giveaway.html ~

    Reply
  • Jessica @ Barefoot by the Sea
    June 29, 2011

    What a fun way to spend the evening! Love hot cocoa, Summertime, twinkly lights! Fun, fun!

    Reply
  • Lindsay
    June 30, 2011

    love your summer bucket list! great idea!

    http://amommyslifestyle.blogspot.com

    Reply
  • MargaretB
    June 30, 2011

    Looks like such a fun summer! I've had 'get a wagon' on my to do list for the last two summers and I think this is going to be the summer I break down and get my little man one to ride around in 🙂

    Reply
  • Samantha
    June 30, 2011

    Looks like your summer is off to a great start! Enjoy 🙂

    Reply
  • Katie
    June 30, 2011

    I just found your blog and spent the last hour reading it. I love it! You are darling!

    Reply
  • Jessica @ Barefoot by the Sea
    June 30, 2011

    Lovely and festive post!

    Reply
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    November 16, 2017

    It seems I’m on the right track, I hope I can do well. The result was something I did and was doing to implement it.

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    March 28, 2020

    So we love to add movement Beer Costume with these bands that emulate fringe,

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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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@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 🙏
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
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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