i pin, therefore i do. sometimes.

It’s funny how my most recent pins can provide a little portal into the current status of my life.

The most recent two, one for sweet potato potstickers and the other for a chick pea curry situation. Both represent my interest in trying new vegetarian recipes and the fact that I’m usually hungry when I’m trolling Pinterest.

There’s also a ton of great kid stuff there … some I’ve tried, some are just ideas I’m saving for later. I just tacked up this would you rather card game for kids, which sounds like a great way to play an indirect game of kids say the darnedest things. I also love this combo plate and placemat, though I’m not in love with the $25 price tag and might try to DIY something similar.

Oh look, there’s another I’m hungry pin. Smoky Sweet Potato Burgers with Roasted Garlic Cream and Avocado.

Another Pinterest vice: home improvement projects. How amazing would it be to have this hidden closet in a mudroom or this handy storage in your bathroom?

I used these two pins (this and this) as inspiration for what I made little brother to take to daycare today for his Valentine’s Day party. I have no idea how mums managed to come up with these sorts of creative ideas before the Internet. Actually, years ago I imagine there was nearly as much pressure to make your own and make it the best as there is now. That’s a topic for another day.

Perhaps the board with the saddest ROI (read: most great pins with least amount actually attempted or accomplished) is my DIY gifts board with so many cute ideas for friends and family. The trick to making a custom letter for a nephew’s bedroom or a pretty bracelet for a friend’s birthday is starting before the week of said event. I’ll get there. Eventually.

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mums don’t get sick days

Cry me a river, I know. I love being a mother. I would choose it over anything else in my life.

Holy though. Have you ever had a day when you didn’t think you could put one foot in front of the other because your head ached-throat hurt-couldn’t stop puking? This week, I’ve got something going on that’s making me feverish and making every inch of my body hurt, especially everything from my collar bones and up.

On Monday, I would’ve given a lot of things for a sick day. But I’m the kids’ chauffeur. So if I stayed home, they’d have also stayed home. Decidedly, I’d get more rest at my desk in the office.

The next morning when I was taking an extra 30 minutes to sleep, hoping in vain to muster an ounce of extra energy, the oldest came in and started to hoist himself up in bed with me. I promptly told him to go get dressed for school because, despite all appearances, I was planning to get up and make some sort of attempt to get to work on time. His response? Big, sad tears. “He’s worried about you,” husband mouthed to me from behind the preschooler’s back.

He doesn’t see me down and out often. I can usually fake it til I make it, but this virus has kicked my ass in ways I didn’t know possible.

In that moment, I realized that no matter how happy or sad, loving or cranky, well or sick I feel, in his eyes, I’m always just mama. Kids have a magical way of not differentiating. We can be frustrated at each other one minute, and snuggling on the couch the next. It’s probably the best part of being theirs.

And honestly, I wouldn’t trade that for any number of sick days.