Dad Jeans

I've never had what one may consider a overly-feminine body. The places that should be curvy are straight and the places that should be slender are not. And that is ok. Because I overcompensate for the curses of nature with clothes. I love to dress my schlumpy body in delicate and feminine pieces. Scarves and ruffles and skirts, O My! They make me happy. But every once in a while I get a desire to don a pair of jeans. And that is always a bad decision. So bad, that even my 3-year old notices.


Sunday, I decided to wear a pair of dark wash denim jeans for the first time since I gave birth to Lucy. Mostly, I was curious to see if they'd fit. I pulled them up, up, up over my hips and secured the button and zipper easily. SCORE! My prepregnancy jeans fit! I put on a sweatshirt and some fuzzy socks... and then I bumped into Annie. She squealed, Mommy! You look handsome in those jeans! I said, "You mean pretty?" And she answered, No, not pretty, Mommy. Handsome. Like a boy.

Pop. Bubble officially burst.

Self-Portrait Artists

When filing through our masses of pictures - there are two photographs you are sure to find: self-portraits of me and self-portraits of Ben. I find pictures of Ben's face everywhere: in my camera, in my phone, on our refridgerator, front and center on our Christmas tree every year. Of all the rotten things to inherit, he got my fondness for capturing the essence of my own face.

Swine Sister

I took one look at this lovely pig and I thought, "Yeah. I know where you're at, honey."
I've never felt sisterhood with a pig before. There is a first for everything.