My Name Is Kelli And I Am Addicted To Lucious Leather...

When I first started working with leather I thought all leather was pretty much the same- smooth and buttery with the scent of a warm, woodsy, earthy bouquet. I couldn't wait to take my designs from the notebook to the workbench.  I found what looked like a great deal on a hide of supple Chocolate Brown leather and thought it would make a fantastic tote bag!

I'm now here to tell you, NOT ALL LEATHER IS THE SAME! That tote bag that I laboriously crafted is fine and functional. It's big, leather, and absolutely nothing like I had hoped. It felt more like a spongy centered faux leather fabric than the real deal and didn't smell anything like I thought it should.

This is where my leather education began. With this disappointing tote bag that cost me far too much in time and money. First I had to figure out why my bag was lacking that aroma that takes me back to my softball days of long practices on hot afternoons and plenty of quality time with my beloved maroon leather glove. My tote bag smelled a bit more like a gasoline soaked old rag. Who wants that wafting as they're strolling around the farmer's market?

I started to learn about the tanning process of leather and discovered I had purchased Chrome Tanned Leather (who knew that was a thing?) which has environmental implications about as terrible as it smells. This was clearly not going to work.

Finally I discovered Veg Tanned Leather! The holy grail of the leather world. Vegetable Tanning is a method that has been used for centuries around the world to produce gorgeous leather that improves as it ages. Sadly this method is becoming less popular due to the amount of work involved in and the associated higher price. Chrome Tanned Leather can be completed in just a few days making it a more economical choice but at the expense of the environment. And then you still have that nasty smell! On the other hand, Veg Tanned Leather requires months for skilled craftsman to take a hide through all the stages of the tanning process while using natural materials such as tannins found in bark, roots and other plant matter to produce impeccably tanned (and divinely aromatic) leather.

I now try to work exclusively with the best Veg Tanned Leather on the market as even Veg Tanned has a wide range of quality. Each piece I offer is hand made. It is cut by hand, burnished by hand, sewn by hand, stamped, punched and skived BY HAND. My hand. A tremendous amount of work goes into every piece I make. So why would I want to make it out of materials that will deteriorate fairly quickly when there is another option that just gets more beautiful over time?

There are few things I love more than a gorgeous hand made Leather piece that has developed a lovely Patina. It tells a story. Great leather that has been used and loved gives you a glimpse into the life of it's owner. From a perfectly molded wallet or handbag to a bracelet that lays just so, they all tell a story. It starts to form different shades and subtle creases as it's exposed to light and life. Like a great baseball glove, it starts to customize itself to you and mold to your form and the way you use it. Each mark adds to the story and makes your piece unique to you. When I finish a piece for myself I can hardly wait to see the slight color variations and customization start to shine through as I turn to that piece time and time again. Because in a world obsessed with fast fashion and disposable goods, there's something refreshing and endearing about products made to be cherished for many years to come.



Do you have a leather piece you absolutely love? I'd love to hear all about it!
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Streakers And Tea Parties

Sometimes I wish I could have a childhood re-do. I mean, I can't think of anyone more utterly free than my kiddos! No need to preach body positivity to these two. They love nothing more than doing a streaker lap through the house as we are yelling at them to put some clothes on through so much laughter they probably can't even understand what we are shouting anyway! And often the biggest stress in their day is who gets to push which buttons in the elevator of our building (and yet they always settle on the same thing- she pushes the button outside, he gets the one inside).

But I also have to remind myself that when you're a kid, being a kid doesn't always feel so easy! My kids don't get to decide what they have for dinner. They may want Mac 'n Cheese (for every meal, always- somehow the word "scurvy" doesn't deter them...) but if Mom and Dad decide it's Sushi night, then Sushi is what we're havin' kiddos! And then there's those days when my daughter's sparkly purple flip-flops are screaming her name but her darn Mom throws out some absurd rule about "winter" and "frostbite" and ruins all the fun.

So maybe instead of relinquishing my meal selection privileges and final say on my attire choices in favor of being a kid again, I just need to lock up all the electronics, ignore the dirty dishes for a little bit, and have some fun- just like my kids. They're not worried about the floor that still needs to be swept or the checklist that's not quite complete (or maybe not quite started lol). They're just worried about how much fun they can squeeze into this one day, and if they can coax Mom into making Mac 'n Cheese for lunch!

I think it's time I learned a thing or two from them.

Now if anyone needs me, I'll be in my fort having a tea party with Superman and the Queen of Antarctica.

Now This Is A Story All About How My Life Got Flip Turned Upside Down...

There I was, with my 3 week old little boy lying in his little bed next to mine as I read the text from my mom. My beautiful little niece, who wasn't due for months, had been born and only lived one hour before returning to heaven leaving questions and broken hearts behind. She was beautiful and even smaller than I imagined.

It had only been a couple of months since I, hugely pregnant, had driven for hours to be there for my dear friends as they buried their precious baby girl. That day that will forever be etched into my memory.

How was this all happening? In our childbirth class they had told us over and over how resilient babies are and how we tend to believe they are far more fragile than they really are. Now my little boy looked like the most fragile thing this world had ever seen!

This is where it all began. The life sucking, soul deadening, torture called anxiety.

I hid it pretty well for a while. Even from myself. I figured it must be normal first time mom stuff. Especially for a first time mom who knew pretty much nothing about babies. Plus my son had Reflux and severe Jaundice so obviously I had to stay up with him every moment and attend to his every need! Right? I stayed up with him all night, every night, then would pass him off to my husband at 6am so I could sleep for a couple of hours before he had classes and work.

Then summer hit. Summer sales, where my husband would often leave by 8 or 9am and return home around midnight. We lived on the opposite side of the country from everyone I knew, I had no car and there was nothing for miles. Little man and I had endless bonding time- and I had endless time to consider every terrifying scenario my imagination could conjure.

All still seemed fine from the outside looking in. Until one night my husband returned home to find me hysterical. Now, anyone who knows me well knows that if I'm crying something is seriously wrong! I usually cry about semiannually, so to find me crouched on the floor next to our sleeping son, my husband automatically thought the worst. Once he realized our son was perfectly fine, he was relieved...and confused.

With extreme effort I managed to calm down just enough to try to explain between sobs. What if something goes wrong? What if something happens to him? What if...(I trailed off in too much agony to speak).

The times I managed to fall asleep, I would wake up frantic at least a dozen times a night and dart to my son. I would check his heartbeat and his breathing. Every. Single. Time. I would look him over, do my analysis and head back to bed, terrified of sleep. Because sleep was the enemy. It was the one time I couldn't be right there to intervene if something bad were to happen. Sleep was what scared me the most.

So why have I told you all this? What's the point of my painful story?

Well, that phone call from my mom that turned my world upside down was six years ago this weekend. I always struggled with my niece's birthday in the past. It reminded me of every fear and moment of relentless terror I've experienced during the years of constant anxiety. It reminded me of the darkness and panic attacks and fear of all the ways I can't protect the ones I love most.

But this year was finally different. Although I still have plenty moments of fear, I'm new. I'm different. I've grown. This beautiful niece whom I can't wait to meet someday has helped show me where to turn when things seem most dark. She has shown me who loves my kids as much as I do and who can be with them every moment that I cannot.

I will probably always be considered a rather protective mom (I do still check on them every night before I can head to bed after all) but through my years of battling the darkness of anxiety I have learned that nothing good comes from the darkness. Everything good this world has to offer comes from the light. God is the source of every good gift and he is the light of the world.

Every time I feel myself sinking into the depths of despair and fear I think of the apostle Peter walking on the water with Christ. As Peter looks around and is afraid, he starts to sink. But Christ, in love and compassion, reaches out to save him as he speaks the words "Oh thou of little faith, wherefore didst thou doubt?"

I always felt Christ's response was a reprimand, but through these difficult few years I have come to see this exchange in an entirely new light. I believe Christ's words are as kind, loving and compassionate as he himself is. I believe his words are to say, "I wish you could see yourself as I see you. I wish you could comprehend what you are capable of, if you just put your faith in me." And I believe he is saying the same thing to each of as we struggle and feel our trials are pulling us under.

We are capable of more than we can possibly comprehend, if we would just put our faith in him. We can move mountains, part the sea, or conquer the anxiety that seeks to destroy us.

Just Right- Why I Won't Dress For My Body Type

My baby girl just turned 3 in February. She is both exactly like me, and uniquely her own! If I'm not headed to or from church, you would be hard pressed to find me in a skirt. Baby girl usually thinks no outfit is complete without one...yes, that does include pajamas! She has all my sass and spunk- for better or for worse. She's as motherly as they come, and I'm still not sure I'm doing 85% of this mama hood stuff right. She has my eyes, fingers and unruly hair. And I love that we are alike in so many ways and profoundly different in others! But seeing our similarities, also makes me want to protect her from roads I went down that claim so many. Road of insecurity, and self consciousness. Roads that often lead, as mine did, to unhealthy choices and ways of thinking.

Baby girl has started asking all sorts of questions as she tries to understand her world. She is often comparing herself to her older brother, her daddy or me. One day she wanted to know if since she's littler than her brother, is she too little? Or maybe he is too big? I hadn't thought too much about these types of questions before then since they never really came up with her brother. He just wants to be "strong like a superhero!" I started to answer that she's little and he's big, but I hesitated long enough for precisely what I wanted to convey to reach my lips. "You're just right. And so is your brother." She went on to ask about daddy to which I responded, "He's just right too!" Her next words struck me hard. "Oh, so you're just right too mama!" 

I'm just right. Why was that simple phrase that I would use without hesitation for them, so hard to apply to me? But she was right. I'm just right. And the more times this conversation has come up, the easier that is to hear and to say. I'm just right. I just wish I had figured that out sooner. 

I was born with the shoulders of a linebacker (couldn't you have just given me your killer calf muscles or olive skin so I don't turn into a lobster after a day in the sun instead dad?!), "wild thing" hair, and lets just say if I were to grow a few inches I wouldn't be heartbroken. But WHO CARES? 

According to all the articles on dressing for my body type, I should avoid pencil skirts, almost every type of short sleeve, flat shoes, printed tops, light colored tops, skinny jeans, anything yellow, green, brown or pastel, and chocolate on the third Saturday in July. Yep, it's that ridiculous. Oh and don't even get me started on all the hairstyles I "shouldn't attempt" with my broad shoulders. Are you kidding me with this stuff?!?

But you know what? I'm just right.

Not to mention, not every day is a photoshoot. How often does every proportion detail even matter all that much? Fashion is meant to be fun!!!

So instead of limiting everything I wear to what some Fashion Editor in her fancy office says makes the list of acceptable styles for my "body type" I've chosen to take a page from my 3 year old's book and wear whatever I please! Yes, some days I take the tips into consideration and rock an outfit that probably suits my unique body characteristics a little better than others. But I also have days like yesterday when I'm out shopping (in skinny jeans and a printed top) and I find a pencil skirt on sale that would be a crime to leave on the rack. It's now safely where it belongs- in my closet waiting patiently for me to go to church since that's basically it's only time to shine. Because broad shoulders,  and short legs covered in purple splotches (did I mention I bruise like a peach?)  don't mean I'm sentenced to a life of full skirts, tights, long sleeves and stilettos 24/7. I mean, what could be more fun than that? A root canal perhaps?

So the next time you read a wonderful article outlining everything you shouldn't wear because it's not appropriate for your body type, your age, or has just been declared "so last season" take what you want and leave the rest. You're just right. Style is about loving what you're wearing, feeling good about yourself and having fun!!! It's not about structuring your life around someone else's arbitrary rules. 

And the next time you step into your closet or into a dressing room, remember what my 3 year old always says "We're just right!" Because I promise, you really are.

Wait, Easter Isn't Just About Candy and Bunnies?!? Helping Kids Understand And Remember The True Meaning of Easter

As a kid, I never really remembered why we celebrated Easter. I mean, isn't St. Patricks' Day just about Leprechauns? Then Easter must be about that clucking bunny right? I know without a doubt that I was taught the true meaning of Easter roughly 8,000 times, but yet, my thick skull apparently won.

So now, I have made it my mission to do all I can to help my kids remember WHY we celebrate this wonderful holiday.

I'm also a "biggest bang for my buck" type of person when it comes to time or labor intensive tasks. Translation- I'm lazy with this stuff so if I'm going to spend time on this, it better be freakin' amazing! Which means you won't find any hot glue guns, sparkles, doilies, or anything else Pinterest Photograph worthy here...just quick and practical!

The week of Easter we pick a night to talk about why we celebrating this holiday, but do it in a fun way. At our house, one person teaches about it to the kids. Then, once the "lesson" is over, each kid (starting with the youngest) has to teach it back, to the best of their ability, either to you or another adult. The point is that they get the basic concepts. You're not going for a word for word resuscitation here!! Explaining why we celebrate Easter earns them the "Family Night Treat". Nothing motivates kids to listen around here like some sort of fun treat!

Next up, the Easter egg. Now, I'm sure there's probably some reason that eggs originally became associated with Easter, but who knows, maybe someone just got their animals confused. I mean, if it's an Easter Bunny, why does it bring Eggs? Maybe an Easter Hen would've been more fitting here... Anyway, at our house, Easter eggs represent the stone that was rolled away from the sepulcher, when Mary went to see Jesus on Easter morning. Simple enough. Now I just wish explaining why it's a bunny were that simple...

Last is during our family Easter egg hunt. Now this one probably won't work as well if you have a huge group, but with some creativity could probably be adapted. We have one empty white egg for each kid hidden with the rest of the eggs. They know they can only take one egg that doesn't rattle when they shake it. If they find another they leave it for someone else to find. Then after the hunt they bring the empty white eggs over. I always ask the youngest (unless they're under 2-3) why they think it's empty. If they can't figure it out the older ones can help. It usually doesn't take long to make the connection with the empty tomb and then I remind them that there are lots of great things about Easter but Christ will always be the best part, and the reason for the whole celebration. Then they each trade their empty egg for an awesome treat. I make sure this treat is WAY better than the treats in the rest of the eggs.

After just a year or two, my son has remembered the true meaning of Easter, even if he is still working to learn the smaller details of the story. And thankfully, so have I! LOL

Please take a second to comment below with your favorite Easter traditions! I love hearing good ones to add to the fun for years to come!!

Suicide On The Playground

Maybe it's the California girl in me but few things make me happier than the warm sun on my skin. Our day of birthday celebrations was getting off to a good start for my now 6 year old son and we couldn't think of a better place to finish the morning than the park.

It was spring break so much to my son's delight there were more kids his age at the park than usual. I pushed my daughter on the swing the entire time because apparently all of Disneyland couldn't compete with a simple swing on a day like that. So as I pushed her I watched. I keep an eye on my kids at the park, but I believe it's one of the places where kids learn how to interact with each other and work things out themselves.  If I intervene, the situation is usually headed to bones breaking like pretzels or something else equally detrimental about to happen. 

Now my little guy is fearless in making new friends. He will walk up to any potential new playmate and simply say "Hey, you wanna play with me?" and if the answer is no, he moves on to the next. Usually he finds several kids who are thrilled with the invitation and they race off in a game of tag. 

But occasionally I get to witness some life lessons at work, like kids who pin everyone against the newcomer. I don't let it get to me much and thankfully neither does my son. And this is how our day at the park started. A group of kids with the two ring leaders ordering everyone not to talk to my son. I felt bad, but just continued watching. Sometimes kids can be jerks. Not really something I wanted him to have to learn on his birthday, but life doesn't usually let you choose convenient times for lessons. 

After a while of trying to get any of the kids to play with him, to no avail, some new kids showed up. Two brothers and another friend of theirs. The younger brother and friend were both about 9 and the older brother roughly 11. I had seen them stroll over and start playing and they seemed nice enough. Then my son walked over and asked them if they wanted to play. Immediately the younger brother got an incomprehensible look on his face. I wasn't sure how he would respond but was instantly nervous. But I never, ever could have imagined what would come out of this boy's mouth next. His words put a lump in my throat, fire in my veins and an ache in my heart.   

"I know what you could do. How about suicide?" he said with a sneer.

His other little friend let out the kind of chuckle that's pure nervousness and admiration of something he would never dare say himself. His older brother, through quiet chuckles said "Remember? We can't joke about that."

I told my son we needed to head home and we left.

I was in absolute shock. Stunned beyond belief. Part of me wanted to believe it was just a horribly named game kids are playing and he wasn't really saying what it sounded like. But in my gut, I couldn't shake the feeling of, even if that's the case, does it matter? What if he said that to another kid? One who knew what that word meant? A kid having the worst day he had faced in his young life. What if he had come to the park to escape from that horrible day only to be confronted with this? What if it were another new kid? One who had never felt the loneliness of not having a friend in this new place and didn't know how to handle it? What if...?

By the time I got home I wished I had said something instead of assuming it was the name of some mind numbing game. I wished I had been that mom. The one who lays into a kid she's never set eyes on until that moment in hopes of opening his eyes to the magnitude of the words that just escaped his lips. The kind of mom who doesn't just do all she can to protect her kid from ignorant and heinous comments like that, but tries to protect every kid. 

I don't know if I could've done it and kept my language playground appropriate, but maybe, because of this experience, I will find the right words next time. And maybe after reading this you will too. Because there will always be some kid who thinks it's okay to say things that are unspeakable. Who wants to see how far he can push it or see what she can get away with. 

It was the last thing I ever imagined having to worry about as we celebrated my little boy's 6th birthday, but it opened my eyes to the world we live in. Just today I read of another little boy taking his own life over comments from others. He was only 11 years old. This is the world we live in?!! A world where I have to talk to my kindergartener about off the cuff comments from older kids trying to get him to hurt himself or take his own life for their amusement?!

Don't get me wrong, I truly believe the vast majority of people in this world are good and I understand that sometimes great kids make thoughtless choices and say terrible things without ever realizing the potential harm their words can do. I certainly don't want to paint a picture of a world of horrible kids. Nothing could be further from the truth. But suicide is never a joke. It is never funny. And it is never a suggestion. It is a tragedy.

So today, hug your loved ones a little tighter, tell them what they mean to you, and then have a real conversation with them. And tomorrow have another. And another. Talk about anything and everything. Listen and help them know they matter. And in some of those conversations, talk about the hard things. All the hard things. Even what this 9 year old boy so cavalierly spouted off to my son. Because if we don't talk about it, I can guarantee you, others will...even on an elementary school playground. 

5 Tips For Planning The Perfect Vacation

I have always loved to travel and have lived in many cities around the world. I'm on a plane going to explore new places or old favorites every chance I get and would rather lose a finger than give up those adventures (hopefully only a pinky). Over the years I have picked up countless tips and tricks that make the painful parts of travel a breeze and can transform your whole experience. I hope today's tips make your next trip better than you imagined!

I dreamed of New York City for as long as I can remember. I had never been there but I was convinced it would be love at first sight. I almost moved there multiple times without even having visited! So when my husband and I moved to Pennsylvania and realized we could easily take a day trip to The Big Apple, I knew it would be nothing short of amazing. How could it not be?

The day finally came and it was more like a trip to the dentist than it was a trip to Disneyland. We wandered around, got lost so many times I'm curious if we ever actually knew where we were and couldn't find a place to eat to save our lives. And when my husband can't find food, it's almost like a huger induced Hulk situation. I'm pretty sure the term hangry was invented specifically for him. I went home a little heartbroken and a lot confused. How could this have happened? Was this incredible city a case of smoke and mirrors or had I just gone about it all wrong?

Our second day trip was a bit better thanks to friends leading the way, but still didn't have the figurative fireworks I was hoping for. (It did however have literal fireworks! It was the 4th of July!)

Finally, I got my shot to do things right and make up for my failed attempts. My husband and I planned a "just us" weekend away- our first since our 2 kids were born. I was determined to redeem myself this time. I dug and hunted and spent more time researching than I did studying for my college biology final. This is the type of insanity Pinterest was invented for, right? And I did it. I absolutely nailed it! We had the best time and couldn't wait for our next trip. 

Now after planning several vacations this way I know I will never go back to just winging it. It has taken our okay trips with occasional bouts of hangry husband syndrome to the dream vacations we always imagined! It requires some work but just like a juicy pot roast, it's oh so worth it. 

So here it is;

5 Steps To Planning The Perfect Vacation

1. Plan your trip in sections. For our New York trip, I planned by borough. I had one sheet for each section of the city we planned to hit on our trip.

2. Research things to do- Make a list for each area, then narrow to what sounds like it could be a good fit for you and your trip. 

3. Include addresses and times (if applicable)- I had one sheet with all the things we were interested in doing in Brooklyn and specifics of location and times. We decided Brooklyn had to be our Saturday destination since Brooklyn Flea was a non-negotiable stop. But once we were done at the flea market, we glanced at the list to see what else we wanted to hit nearby.  

4. Research the best places to eat in the area- On the bottom of each sheet was a list of some of the best places to eat in that area that were enticing to us with a range of prices and styles (sit down, super popular with a long wait, stop in and take it on the road, etc.) and types of food which made it  much easier for us to enjoy our day and grab a bite of amazing food close by whenever we got hungry. 

5. Do not try to do everything on the list!!!- That is not the point! We had one or two things in each section we really wanted to do and several others were solid options for us. But if you are loving what you're doing, don't be in a hurry to move on. You're on vacation for crying out loud! It's mean to be enjoyed! This way it gives you some great ideas for things you would like close by if the first few stops don't take up your whole day and you don't want to move on to another area.

Most of all, do the planning, bring the list, and then go relax and enjoy your vacation! 

Kel

So what are your favorite vacation tips and secrets? 

I'm Not Everyone's Cup of Tea...And I'm So Glad

When I was 17 I was fiercely and unapologetically myself. Peer pressure at that time in my life was much like trying to entice a dog with diamonds. Nothing but wasted effort.

Then I moved away, set out on an adventure I hadn't anticipated or necessarily wanted and life gave me a black eye or two (okay, maybe a few more than that). Pretty soon I began to think the only way to survive was to conform. So slowly, things changed. I changed. My clothes, my words, my actions. It all changed. And in all the changes I got lost for a while. I smiled politely and kept my thoughts to myself. I was closer to a Stepford Wife than anyone ever should be and I wasn't even married! I was turning into Playdoh. Fitting myself into whatever mold the situation called for. Always pleasant and eager to please. My own personal moral compass had become so clouded I could hardly distinguish what it was, let alone what it said! I had a few core values I managed to cling to, but other than that was lost. 

Then, after a while, I just got tired. I got tired of not even recognizing the person looking back at me in the mirror. She was foreign to me and wasn't someone I could respect. I got tired of no one knowing who I really was. It wasn't their fault- I could hardly remember myself! I got tired of pretending to agree when everything inside me was screaming to speak my mind. I got tired of letting life win by my concession. I got tired of being someone I would hate for my daughter to become. So I knew something had to change. I wasn't sure how I had gotten into this mess so I wasn't quite sure how to get out.

Then one day I heard a stranger utter words I would never forget. Words that struck me to the core and brought light and clarity to my mind. Words that would help me remember who I really was and have the courage to be myself once again. Words that I have shared time and time again with others struggling as I did with who they are and being true to themselves. Those simple words were, "You can be the sweetest peach in the whole orchard, and there will still be people who don't like peaches." 

Not the profound words you expected? Well that's the funny thing about words. They don't always have to be profound to strike a chord with you. They just have to really speak to you to be powerful. And that's exactly what those words were to me. I have found many great things said on the topic in the years since, but this is where my transformation began. With a simple comment about peaches. 

Why do we do this to ourselves? 

Why do we convince ourselves that who we are isn't enough? It's insane. 

Why does everyone have to like everything we do, say, wear, think or believe? How boring life would be if we were all the same!

Over time I found my way back and realized the person I wanted to be. And I'm certainly not everyone's cup of tea. Although I never go out of my way to cause a stir, I'm also not the contortionist bending over backwards trying to make everyone who crosses my path love me anymore. I am happy with the person I am  even as I work to become a better version of myself. I don't need the world to approve of me. I am enough. I'm feisty, daring and strong. I make quilts and shoot guns. I run and kayak and build and cook. I'm a terrible housekeeper and a caring friend. I'm a work in progress. But most of all I'm unapologetically me.

So today I want you to take a minute to realize that YOU ARE ENOUGH. The world needs you to be who you really are. You have something to contribute to this world that no one else who now lives or ever has lived can give. There is only one you. Don't waste it. Embrace who you are and who you want to be. Don't give in when life roughs you up a bit. Be you. Life will take a few shots either way. 

-Kel

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What Makes A Family?

What is a family?

Really. 

What is it?

Is it the people who brought you into this world and any others that they brought into this world as well? Is it the people who love you the most? Is it those who you can always count on? Do they have to look like you? Sound like you? Or even be like you at all?

One of my sisters and I look almost nothing alike. I look like the sun and I had a falling out a decade ago and haven't been able to be in each other's presence since that fateful day. She looks like an island goddess. I have a light brown lion's mane where she has beautiful dark curls. We are biological sisters but does that matter if we look nothing alike?

My dad is a wonderful man. He and I share the same earlobes and love of fresh veggies from the garden. I'm pretty sure the list ends there. I'm more adventurous than he can stand and he is unfailingly sensible. He loves the beautiful home he has enjoyed for over 40 years and I can't remember the last time I spent two birthdays at the same address. He draws beautifully and my stick figures need some work. We have learned to happily agree to disagree over the years, which has saved our relationship I'm sure! How can we be so different and still be family?

In college my husband played hockey and after we got married, I was inducted into what can only be called a very unique family. You see, many of the guys on the team had left their homes in their early to mid teens to play for teams in new states, or even new countries. Their teammates became their family. I don't mean to say they abandoned the families they were born into. More like they added onto the house, not bought a new one. And when I married my husband I married into this crazy, hilarious, rambunctious, unfailingly kind and loyal family. We have spent weekends with them, celebrated weddings, babies and holidays. My children know many of these crazy hockey players and love them. They are family. 

Over the years my family has evolved. People who I always believed would be top of the list have fallen further down that list than I ever imagined possible. While others I never expected have become paramount in the lives of myself, my husband and my children. And you know what? That's okay. Families, however they are defined, are messy and crazy and exhausting and wonderful. Each one looks a little different and they often evolve over time for which I couldn't be more grateful. Because as they evolve they can grow to include more love and more people who want to walk through life enjoying each other's company and helping one another through the difficulties life presents. 

So whatever your family looks like and however it came to be, celebrate it. 

Because we all need people who care. 

People who show up. 

People who love. 

People we're grateful to call family. 

-Kel

So guys, what's your favorite thing about your family? Has your idea of family changed over time? I'd love to hear from you all!




(Photo Credit: Brad Peterson at bpdesignerportraits.com)

A Stool, A Jigsaw and A Magic Gift

At my house we have a shabby yellow stool that if you look closely around the corners you can still see the original shade of "What Were You Thinking" green underneath. (yeah, I'm pretty sure that was the exact name of the shade).

The other day my son and I were talking about this little stool. You see, I build furniture and I have since before he was born. And apparently he thought I was just brought into this world with my dream list of tools I would like to fill my imaginary shop with. But really it all started with this shabby, beautifully imperfect stool.

I had seen a similar one in a store but as a dirt poor newlywed college student I had a hard time even affording jelly that had real fruit listed on the label for my PB&J. That stool was wildly out of the question. But I did have a terrible little jigsaw that would usually work during a full moon if I whispered sweet nothings to it and said a prayer or two. And as soon as I found out there were 1x3 boards that came with your own set of monstrous slivers for under $2 how could I resist? I had never built anything in my life but couldn't see how that was relevant.

By the time my husband got home from work that night our little apartment was covered in saw dust (wait, most people don't cut wood and build things in their living rooms?...oops.), the dog was chilling in the corner looking a little concerned about all the banging, sawing and rants of frustration, and I was screwing in the last screws of my very first masterpiece. Okay so maybe it looked like it may have been inspired by Picasso, but if his can be called a masterpiece, why not mine? To some (okay most) it may seem a bit wonky, but to others (like my mom perhaps? Or maybe just a pathetically broke college student) it is wonderful.

Now you may be wondering why on earth I've told you more than you ever wanted to know about our  lovely yellow stool. Well, my son walks into my bedroom, looks at our big beautiful headboard and long shelves that he watched me slave over for days turning a pile of lumber into my masterpieces and thinks I must just have a gift. He thinks it is my natural ability and wishes he could do that too. He hadn't known I had built our little yellow stool that could've been designed by Dr. Seuss. But most importantly, until our conversation about that little yellow stool, he had no idea how long it has taken me to finally create pieces that are great. He didn't see all the ones that were awful or that I had to fix or scrap all together. He didn't see all the ragged edges of pieces cut with that temperamental jigsaw. He mostly sees the best things I've made. The ones we've kept and loved. And not all the work it took to get there.

Still lost? What I'm saying is don't we all do this? We look at what someone else can do and think it must come naturally or easily to them. They are so lucky that they can_____. I wish _______ came as easily to me as it does to them! They must have been born with that amazing talent! And if I had the best tools everything would come out just as wonderfully. But you know what? Most of the time things take work. Most of the time there's a serious learning curve where you will get things wrong a few times. And most of the time people give up because they don't think they have the magic gift that is required. But more often than not the magic gift is plain old hard work. That's all. Go try. Then try again. And again. And again. You will learn and get better at it- whatever "it" may be. And if you keep at it, someday someone will wonder how you got so lucky to be born with such a gift.

A Letter To My Anxious Little Boy

To my sweet, anxious little boy,

My sweet little worrier. I should have known. Your first encounter with mud and you were sure you were Clark Kent and this substance must be Kryptonite. After spending your college fund on taking you to one of those fancy kiddie haircut places that is basically a mini Disneyland equipped with car and rocket ship chairs and every children's movie ever made, you walked out trimmed to perfection and a bit dehydrated from the waterworks that started before the clippers were even plugged in. 

I should have known then that some things would be so difficult for you. I should have known that just because making friends and articulating your thoughts and feelings came so easily to you, it didn't mean the rest would be effortless. 

And every time I see a panic attack on the horizon I wonder if I'm the reason. Did I do this to you? Did I tell you to be careful too many times? Did I make you think the world is a place to be feared? Every day I hope and pray that I'm doing the right things for you. And I have no doubt that sometimes I don't. Sometimes I just get it wrong. Sometimes I am not as patient as you need me to be. Sometimes I forget to fix your favorite book that your sister broke when she used it as a frisbee. Sometimes I tell you the incredibly unlikely worst case scenario to get you to take my warning seriously. 

But son, even though sometimes accidents do happen in life, I never want you to be afraid to live it! I want you to jump in puddles and get so muddy you look like swamp thing. I want you to run as fast as your little legs can carry you. I want you to be excited about the snow cones we will enjoy when you see flakes coming down outside, instead of instantly worry about Daddy making it home from work with he snowy roads. I want to take away your worries and calm your troubled heart. I want you to take another page out of your Mama's book. A better page. And see the world as a place full of wonder and adventure. I want life to fill you with excitement. 

Because son, I know that anxiety you feel. I know it because you do get it from me. And it started just weeks before you were born. I was always the fearless one. Adventurous and daring. But you came along and I changed. I became your Mama. And for me, that came with crippling anxiety. It came with endless nights sitting by your bed with tear stained cheeks as I worried over you and all the ways I was helpless to protect you. It came with more stress than I knew one person could endure. And it came with more love than I had ever known.

It was years before I realized life didn't have to go on like this and learned how to handle my anxieties so my life could be full again. So son, when I try to help you reason through your fears and focus on the good it's because I know the fear you have inside. I know the feeling of a panic attack overwhelming your body and clouding your mind. I know how scary it can be. But it gets better. Look into my eyes, take a big deep breath and I promise, we can get through this together.

 Because life has so much to offer beyond the fear. Most people are good and kind. Most places are exciting with incredible secrets waiting to be unveiled. Most days can be good if you do your best to make it so. And most adventures start out a little scary and end up being wonderfully unforgettable. 

Love, 

Your adventurous Mama