wearetheparsons —> family bio picture
  • hi!

    there are five of us in this tribe. we are wild and messy and imperfect and committed to showing all sides of our story, not just the pretty stuff. from adoption to raising nature-loving boys in the city, to being free-spirits who still have to be grown ups, this is our life.

    I'm ash, the only female in a house full of boys, and the writer of these words. this is the virtual home of some of the tidbits of our personal life and the stories we are living together. crappy grammar is likely, swear words are even more likely, and messy stories with far too many commas are guaranteed. I hope you follow along as I process through the love and grace extended in the midst of it all. xo

precious winter remedies – from our home to yours.

well, friends, darker days and colder nights are nearly upon us. As we all prepare to hibernate and bring out the duvets, I wanted to share some of our favorite family essential oil remedies as of late, as well as remind you to GET SOME OF DIS SHIT. It’s real good.

Anyone else’s armpits tend to smell like a big, fat onion? Purification is my remedy to this problem. I simply put two drops on each armpit after my shower every day and voila! B.O. be gone! I also feel a little extra happy knowing I’m not putting cancer-causing smell-blockers on my pits.

Somedays I get to the late afternoon and find myself reaching for the coffee grinder. Instead, how about a simple blending of 1 drop peppermint and 1 drop citrus fresh applied to my temples or bottoms of my feet work wonders to keep me alert. (be sure not to get close to the eye area with the peppermint, though. lots of cry face emojis)

I used to buy this one kind of expensive candle. Then we went on a budget and my house of boys started to smell like a locker room. This blend is absolute heaven, and I am obsessed with the way our house smells these days. No pricey candles needed, thankyouverymuch.
4 drops Cedarwood, 5 drops Pathouli, 1 drop Lavender. diffuse and enjoy a good book while you nestle under blankets.

I have grown very attached to these two, particularly when blended together. Need a moment of calm? one drop of each. Need a good perfume? one drop of each. Need to do some UGG boot freshening? one drop of each. Need for your kids to calm the f*(# down? one drop of each.

It’s the most grody time of the year. So stock up on Thieves! Listen, friend, if there is one oil in the world you need this winter, it is this one. The powerful antiviral properties of this particular blend will protect your family from the onset of flu, colds, coughs, and all that other nasty stuff. Oh, and by the way, one drop of thieves with my toothpaste every night completely healed a painful tooth and cavity. miracles!
For extra support, get breath again roll on, and roll under your nose each evening before bed to keep those sinuses open and airy so you can get the best sleep possible. Jer and I are both addicted to this practice now.

In a fashion that would make Vanessa Williams proud, I went and saved the best for last. Watch the video. This post is what she’s talking about, kids. When you run out of whiskey, there’s only one option: mix 8 drops vetiver, 8 drops cedarwood, 5 drops lavender, and 3 drops frankincense in a dropper. Then put four drops on your body and pass. out. or put one drop on your rowdy kids and see what happens. this is seriously such a powerful tonic that I had to learn the hard way as I couldn’t keep my eyes open during a meeting a few months ago then had to go take a massive nap. oops! enjoy, and you’re welcome.

Lastly, don’t forget joy. If you can’t grow an afro, you are gonna need some joy in your life to make those winter blues go away. It. works. period.

I don’t believe there is a better, more responsible Essential Oils company out there than Young Living. If you want to order a bottle or two just to “dip your toes in the water”, email me at ash@wearetheparsons.com and I can help.

If you haven’t ordered a starter kit for yourself and you are ready to take the big plunge, now is the perfect time. Think of how you can enjoy your oils and your diffuser all through those holiday meals, parties, and hibernating days!

order today! here’s how to get the premium starter kit:

the premium starter kit, follow these step-by-step directions.

• Go to:   Sign-Up page
• Please make sure you’ve checked Young Living wholesale member (and not retail customer—you will not get wholesale prices as a customer–it’s a 24% discount and you never have to sell anything. GET THE DISCOUNT, hashtag yolo.)
• Enter this number 2179912  in the Sponsor ID and Enroller ID areas
• Fill out your info
• Select your kit ($150 premium starter kit is the best value–a $225 retail value) get this one. you will not be disappointed.
• If you want an oil “membership” you can choose to sign up for Essential Rewards at this time if you’d like but no worries if not. — (it means you commit to ordering $50/month and they give you reduced shipping. i love this because it keeps me current on my oils and helps me try new products but you are NOT under any obligation to join this, and you can still order at a discount without joining the Essential Rewards program.)
• At this point, you can add more product to your order if you’d like, or just stick with the starter kit to try the best of the best and get started!
• You’re all done—welcome to the family, you will get an email from me quickly after.   

I hope you all are well and find yourselves filled with anticipation as we go into this wonderful time of forced slowness, muted colors, and hot drinks sipped gratefully and slowly.

I leave you with this. I dig this song. and the dancing at the beginning and end. the middle part is what will happen to anyone who doesn’t use their oils consistently this winter! jk jk.. or am I?

jami - omg. ash. these pics are amaze. more oilz post!!November 13, 2015 – 8:34 pm

amy - best essential oils post ever. just gonna throw that out there. thank you for making me laugh so early this morning. Y E S to all you told us, count me in.November 13, 2015 – 1:43 pm

dear social media . part one

Last March, we quit “social media” for a one year fast. I use quotations because I know social media is defined differently by different people. For us, it meant we quit Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram. (we were never cool enough for snapchat or periscope, but I hear all the kids are loving these platforms these days).

I haven’t talked much about it on this space because there have been more important things taking up my time and brain power. But the past couple of weeks I have had multiple people asking about our fast so I’d like to try and put words together to share my thoughts.

* sidenote: this might become a series of posts but I am shit at following through with things like this, so no promises. in the small chance that it would, I will try to focus on one idea at a time.

a few disclaimers before I go any further :

- I concede that social media is not all bad. But every pro was shackled to a con for me, so I vacated for at least a year, to clear my head and re-examine life.

- Many people I love still use social media on the daily. we all choose our path in the world and through it. we all carve out, inch by inch, what we want our legacy to be. some of my dearest friends are carving much of that out on social media. our differing opinions on this subject strengthen the bonds of what real friendship is and give us new perspectives to share with one another.

- If you read my words as an indictment of your own social media usage, you’re reading them wrong. I share what I do to be able to process these things “out loud”. If you end up asking yourself these questions with me, I hope it is from a place of openness and not judgment.

- I hope my words and stories are an invitation to you. I have experienced untold joys and freedom in the past seven months and anything I share is in hopes that these gifts will be passed around the table like a warm bowl of buttery mashed potatoes. Anything that brings freedom is worth sharing. if you connect to it, please feel free to comment and let me know your thoughts or write me an email at ash@wearetheparsons.com .

- Lastly, and most wonderfully, I won’t do this perfectly. YAY! There, I said it! Any trolls or haters on the topic can move onto the next blogger pretending to be perfect, cause I’m never gonna be. I can already see myself a decade from now, wiser and with a clearer head, reading these words. I imagine a chuckle and my voice saying something like, “oh, ash, you thought you knew so very much, my dear. bless your heart.” I’m a person, imperfect and in process. Consequently this means anything I ever share is the same, infantile at best, amoebic at worst.


dear social media,
I think Facebook and Instagram are mental hospitals, confining normal life into a straightjacket of “happy.”

ash (formerly known as ash_parsons)

I was recently asked to contribute images and words to a magazine, sharing about the process of leaving social media for a year. The editor thought “it might be fun” for people to see what I’ve been up to these past few months and gain inspiration from the photographs I’ve made during my time away. I cringed a little inside and thought, oh shit, here we go again.

Last week I spent an evening in the emergency room at the children’s hospital. The experience is nothing new for our family since this was the place where, four years ago, we met our youngest son Zion and adopted him into our crazy parsons tribe. Born three months early with a long list of health crises, he lived the first month and a half of his life in the Neonatal ICU, and makes frequent “visits” back to the hospital for everything from checkups with his neurosurgeon to various therapies to late night emergency runs.

I sat there in the hospital bed with his limp and sick body asleep on my chest. At three pounds or forty-three pounds, it’s still his favorite place to rest. I couldn’t help but flash back to the hundreds of times we’ve been in that building. The smell of the hospital’s generic hand soap takes me back to scrubbing in before holding him in the NICU, or washing my hands to hold him after his brain surgery. The anxious beeping of the monitors remind me of the many “false alarms” as he’s fought for his life in those rooms. The rapid and mechanical heaving of his chest brought back the dozens of times I have watched him struggle as I sit powerless to save or heal him.

That feeling of helplessness also reminds me of social media. I began my most obsessive usage right after we adopted zion, four and a half years ago. As a mother of an infant for the third time and a daily frequenter of the hospital, I was longing for connection to the outside world and empathy from my peers. I wanted to know that I wasn’t alone in the hard things, that my pain, longing, and fears were shared or felt by others.

Although I had a lot of fun and watched my followers grow from tens to thousands, I spent nearly all of the first four years of Zion’s life trying to navigate my way around my frustration with this one reality: the place where I connect with people the most doesn’t encourage me to share the hard moments. Social media seemed a great platform for showing the light that pours into my bedroom windows in the afternoon, our latest work trip to Europe, zion’s million-watt smile, or the first day of school portrait of the three boys. But it almost seemed to straightjacket me the second I desired to share the messy, hard, “my baby is in the hospital” stuff. The reality of my life is that it’s filled with both. To build an identity or persona purely on the happy stuff would be a misrepresentation.

I tried to share the hard things as much as I could, but then what were your options? you could either “like” my current status, comment on it, or ignore it. I could always feel the tension. No one really felt comfortable like-ing a post about a baby suffering. Because 97% of my followers weren’t close friends, most people didn’t feel capable of leaving a comment. Which left only one option – most of the hard things went ignored, or at least, marginalized compared to the “happy” and “fun” posts that got liked off the charts. Nobody wants to feel alone in a time of need. Thousands of people have now decided to skip the punishment of indifference and just share the “fun” stuff. Although it doesn’t really help the problem in the long-term, I can’t blame them.

I don’t know if what I share with the magazine will be “fun” for you to see. There’s been plenty of beauty captured in the body of my camera (or my camera phone) these past seven months, and it will be a joy to share it. but there’s also been plenty of photographs like this. my view from my real life – an unedited iPhone photo I took (#nofilter), sitting exhausted and defeated and scared in the hospital emergency room with my sick little one asleep on my chest.

Robyn - This spoke right to my heart. I have felt myself being so torn between wanting to escape the pressure, the nagging distraction and the feelings that come with a life submersed in social media. Yet I just can’t seem to convince myself that I will be OKAY if I cut myself off from my online world.

Thank you for sharing this and speaking truth about social media, and for sharing the benefits you’ve reaped from rethinking your own use of it. I’m praying for a mindset like yours so I can enjoy that freedom too.October 14, 2015 – 3:38 pm

amy messenger - “Anything that brings freedom is worth sharing.”
amen . and yes .
thank you for writing about the guts of these things we rarely dig into .
it is worth talking about, and very much worth sharing .October 13, 2015 – 8:42 pm

ash parsons - thanks so much, Ravyn.

I made so many excuses for social media, too, for years. my two biggest ones were the ways I thought it enhanced my friendships and the good I thought it did for our business. While it is the main way people are using to connect and market, I no longer believe it is crucial or even beneficial. I’ve seen too much good surge out of our business and our relationships since vacating it to fall back on those excuses anymore.

I absolutely had moments when I thought, “Is this what I want to be doing when my kids REALLY start remembering their everyday life?” and the sad thing is, our older two boys really do remember the last four years of our lives as a family as a conglomeration of memories of being ignored or unanswered because we were on social media. They’ve told us that to our faces, and said how much more they like life now that we are off. talk about a mac truck to the heart!!

all that so say, you aren’t alone, there’s hope, and whatever exploration you do in this realm will not go to waste.

xo, ashOctober 13, 2015 – 5:09 pm

Ravyn - Thank you for sharing this … I make so many excuses for social media. The biggest two are our long-distance family, and the fact that I want these “tangible” memories. While I think the family piece is important, there’s nothing stopping me from just printing photos from my phone and putting them in an album.

I assume you had moments where you thought, “Is this what I want to be doing when my kids REALLY start remembering their ‘everyday’ life?” — That’s my source of anxiety (or inspiration) with social media.

Good on you for trusting your heart, and exploring this piece of separation from social media. I think most of us would be better without it … Best wishes to you!October 13, 2015 – 5:02 pm

This is a season.

Living in the Midwestern Plains of the U.S. isn’t as sexy as it sounds.
Oh wait. It doesn’t sound sexy?
Well, good, ‘cause it isn’t.

But one thing that I wouldn’t trade about this part of the country is the drastic changing of seasons. We don’t have to wonder if winter is here because we wake up one morning and the world outside our window is white. We don’t have to wonder if it’s spring because the long death ends with green and pink buds on trees everywhere we go. We know it’s summer because it’s so hot and humid that it feels like the devil’s ass crack has sat down on the earth.

But fall is my favorite.
One morning, that hellish humidity just vanishes and we are left with air so crisp you could almost be in the mountains.The trees finally show their true colors and the whole area comes ablaze.

I find the reliable changing of seasons comforting. Within each one lies an acceptance and a letting go, as well as embracing new temporary things to enjoy.

This morning, as I walked our four year old into his preschool twelve minutes late, I couldn’t help but notice the shade his teacher was throwing my way. Granted, I wasn’t looking my “best”, per se. A long night with a sick husband and a little one who decided to wake up at 4am had left me totally exhausted. When I finally got back to sleep, it was time to get up and that meant I and everyone else was up late and exhausted. I paraded my hungry child into that classroom like any proud mother of three – dressed in mostly pajamas, with a giant rats nest in the back of my hair and dried mascara bits stuck under my eyes, looking like a crack whore.

The crack-whore-mommy-look is real. How about that for a new hashtag, you little instagramming lovelies? I drove away from the school feeling guilty. Guilty for being late, for making my son miss half of breakfast time, for parading myself around in public looking like a homeless person, for not begin more sympathetic to my husband when he really does feel awful, not giving more stress-free time to our older boys, for having a dirty house, not having enough groceries for the day, for all of it. As I drove home with all the other stressed-out and crazy drivers of earth, I noticed a group of leaves changing color on a nearby tree and I remembered, “oh yeah… this is a season.”

And it has been one hell of a season, for me and for many of my dearest friends. I have close friends going through everything right now from broken relationships with family, financial crisis, depression and anxiety attacks, miscarriage, job loss, addiction, poor health, and doubt. There is a broad range of human suffering surrounding me on a daily basis, and I am right there in it with them. I am reminded of that every time we go to another appointment at the children’s hospital or realize Zion isn’t meeting another milestone.

This morning I remembered that this is a season. We are all in these years of not just having small children, but being responsible to feed and water and clothe and parent them in hopes that they will come out of childhood alive. Some of us, myself included, are also trying to run businesses that support our families while dealing with much of the above. This means we exist in a perpetual deficit. These are the days of shorter showers and interrupted bathroom breaks, of being woken up in the middle of the night just to share your bed with a four year old and have them lie there and kick you in the ribs for the next five hours. This season includes an increased volume level just to be heard, dirty hands and feet pawing the walls and running the floors, a minimum of two people that need something at all times, an unfinished to-do list, and all the while, we are still just trying to figure out how to finally be grown-ups. Things like coffee dates, long walks, “alone time,” balance, and feeling well – rested just aren’t in the cards for us much these days. And I’ll go ahead and speak for myself and say neither is texting back in a timely manner, staying on top of emails, making uninterrupted time for friends, keeping my laundry done, or having the margin to volunteer for anything.

It’s a season.
I realize there’s going to be a day when there aren’t 2,000 legos hiding in all of the corners of my house where I walk barefoot. There will be a day when Zion can clearly communicate his needs with me so I no longer worry that his shunt will fail and we won’t know about it in time. There’s probably even going to be a day when we no longer run a business and have unanswered emails coming out of our ears every morning. There’s going to be a day when my friends and I don’t have any kids at home anymore, and our days and nights are solely ours to begin the day with a four hour shower, followed by slowly applying makeup and styling our hair, followed by coffee dates, lunch dates, ending with wine and cocktails. Or something like that.

But for now, we are in the thick of it. We are the ones embracing the struggle and not pretending that it’s always pretty or easy to do so. So to all of you fellow mama’s out there, embracing the crack-whore-mommy-look just to get shit done, I salute you, and I’m right there with you… for a season.

Jesus loves the broken ones, this I know.

I am a person in process.

I don’t like this reality most of the time. I try to tell myself a happy little line that there are things about me that were bad and broken “back then” but now that I’m older and wiser those things are good and fixed.

Turns out, most of the time, they’re not.

When I was in high school, I had an eating disorder. A bad break up with a boy I thought I was going to marry – you know, cause everyone marries their high school boyfriend – had lead to secret shame, self-loathing, and depression. I didn’t know what I was supposed to do with these feelings. Those weren’t things we dealt with in my family or circle of friends. So I began concocting a way to make myself feel in control and lovable again. The answer was simple: skinnier. I must be skinner to be lovable. I started a regime of starving myself and purging whenever I didn’t. It was a fancy mix between anorexia and bulimia. A psychiatrist I saw called it bulexia.

I eventually told my parents, saw a therapist, and forced myself to get over the break up and stop trying to harm my body. I put on weight. My esophagus healed. I “got better”. I must have played the part well because I actually ended up being interviewed on a morning show at the local radio station with my therapist, as her “proof of effective treatment” of girls with eating disorders. As I look back I marvel at the situation a little bit. I was just in high school, just a lonely teenage girl trying to figure out her heart, and yet being shared publicly with the city as a shining beacon for recovery.

Decades have passed since I sat on the other end of that radio station plexi glass in front of the microphone, but lately, I can almost feel the same familiar discomfort in my stomach. I don’t feel right and I am too old and too tired pretend that I do. Rhabdo followed by atrophy means my muscles aren’t working properly yet. I spent last week in Colorado and after a handful of shoots, I felt weak and shaky and unable to stay standing long enough to have a short conversation. I watched my husband walk a dirt path up in the high country and all I could do was stand, watch, and wait to sit down on the nearest rock. My lack of physical ability means I can’t exercise so I find myself conveniently forgetting to eat and living on a steady diet of coffee followed by more coffee followed by dinner.

Which brings me to this blog post and the theme of today’s song: I can either pretend that my broken places are fixed and add “pathological liar” to my list of secret sins, or I can walk through life accepting my current broken places and knowing that Jesus is with me in them.

I have been reading the Bible a little more these days. It’s not an exercise that comes incredibly easy for me, and it’s an exercise that I have done in a really self-serving way for most of my life. But I am being challenged more lately to look at the Bible as a book about God and his grand story of big love, instead of a book about me and my story and iron will to fix myself.

The more I encounter Jesus and study his life on earth, the more I realize he was a really big fan of broken people like me. He made a career out of eating with, sitting on the floor with, healing, working with, befriending, walking with, listening to, being touched by, and empathizing with the broken people. The broken ones were the ones who got to be closest to him. The more I look at the story of Jesus and the more I examine the story of my life with all of its positive and negative turns, the more I am coming to the conclusion that Jesus loves – really loves – broken people, and my brokenness is an invitation to be close to him, to sit on the floor and eat with him.

After my last blog post, I wrote a friend and asked for her feedback on what I had shared in the previous two posts. Her response was breathtaking and true, and just stopped me in my tracks in the most beautiful way –

“You are very brave.
What I see, also, is how God has given you a perfectly personalized tension for the restoration of you into the Christ-likeness you are made for. You have a deep desire to be successful and admired on a big stage, but the things you are most passionate about saying and creating only ring true for the outcast, the weak, the unpopular poor of spirit. The truths that are most important to your soul will only draw the smallest crowd.

And so if feels almost life-threatening to write them and make them public. It also feels absolutely essential.

Two masters. You already know the one you want to follow. But the other one doesn’t give up easily, fights a little dirtier when he sees he’s losing.

It’s ok though. Perfect love casts out fear.
There is nothing to fear.”

I wrote her back and said I had wrestled with her words all week long. I was making peace with the idea that my story speaks to the outcast and the weak one because I am the outcast and the weak one. I can either push against it and spend my life not being known or I can raise my hand and shout out,
“That’s me! That’s the kind of journey I am on! I’m the weak one! I am not on the journey of being put together and having my shit figured out, but the journey of being one of the broken people!”
I responded saying I choose to be weak because I see how clearly God uses the weak ones. “I think the weak ones are some of his favorites.”

I can’t force my body to heal more quickly and I am not going to be able to go burn mega calories tomorrow. I’m not going to wake up and suddenly be over my fear of getting un-skinny and un-lovable. Those things aren’t in the cards for me. But I am at least able to wake up in the morning and know that I am one of the weak ones. I am not fixed yet. And that’s ok. That makes me one of his favorites.

Jenn - Hi Ashley. I just found your blog through the oils e-mail you sent today. I love this post. I really love the sentence about looking at the Bible as a book about God and His love story. I am super duper guilty of making it all about me. Thank you for putting your thoughts and feelings down for others. love you.November 14, 2015 – 1:16 am

Laurie Cassidy - I really liked your post.
I think we are all the weak ones.
And imperfect.
And that’s okay.
Jesus loved the honest ones too. And you are.
Keep on keeping on.
LaurieOctober 4, 2015 – 7:01 am

Kristin - Dear friend! Thank you for this post. Thinking of and praying for you. And please know that that I am in that ‘small crowd’ cheering you on and totally identifying with you in brokenness and the unending need of God’s grace over my life.September 21, 2015 – 1:06 pm

a letter to Micah . the time you asked a girl to the dance for the first time ever.

To my oldest son, Micah,

I cried this week just thinking about you. I cried because it feels like you came into our lives about five minutes ago. Five minutes ago, I was holding you, inspecting the features of your face for the first time, nursing you through bleeding nipples to keep you alive, and counting your breaths as you slept soundly next to me. I know 90% of the things I just said would be “gosh, totally gross, mom” to you now, but someday you will be an adult and you will get it a little bit more.

Five minutes ago, you were accidentally scratching your own face with your long newborn nails and haphazard, uncoordinated movements. Then, all of a sudden, this week came and the baby who used to dream on my chest is a middle schooler for the first time, asking a girl to the middle school dance.

You are getting up early these days to get dressed and do your hair. I gave you a new haircut right before you went back to school, one just like dad’s, and you are feeling pretty good about life in that new haircut.

you also get up even earlier now to go running with your dad twice a week. I don’t know all you two will talk about and I could care less how far or fast you run, but I know how proud and at peace I am knowing that, for those hours, your journey into young-man-hood is in really good hands. Then, you get dressed, wet your hair down, pat it dry with a towel, and apply just the right amount of pomade. You still kiss me on the lips while drink my coffee and wave goodbye, you smile with your slightly gapped teeth, look me right in the eyes and say “love you” every single day.

I look at you these days, that hair and those teeth, and marvel at how in between you are. in between being my baby and a young man.

Micah, you asked a girl to the dance this week. You got up the nerve, found her by the lockers, stood up straight, and asked her. Then you found out one of your friends had already beat you to it. He moved in first, she told him yes, and she told you no.

I will be honest. You don’t know what it means yet, but when I heard this,
But you? You, thank God, react differently than I do when you are hurt or disappointed. Your response to this little turd moving in on this girl? “Well, he’s my friend, mom, and so is she. I just want them to have fun at the dance, so I’m happy for him that he asked her and I’m happy for him that she said yes.”

You will never be a mom so you will never fully get this. But you, Micah man, break my heart into a bajillion pieces over stuff like this all the time. it’s not the bad kind of heartbreak, although it still makes me ache in places I didn’t discover until I had you. It’s the kind of heartbreak from being opened to a new kind of beauty and bravery in the world. Sure, there was that season when you got way into Greek mythology and your daily mythology stories were 1000% uninteresting to me and I wanted to gouge my eyeballs out because I thought they would never end, but even then you were perfectly, undeniably, you. You, my love, are a new and miraculous kind of beauty and brave the world has never known before. God is telling me something about his love and his grace and his empathy every single time I interact with you.

I was talking to a friend about you the other day. (I do that often and I hope you know I’m the kind of momma who longs to guard your secrets but honor your strengths to my friends.) I told her I didn’t have a clue what you would grow up to be. What profession in the world exists for the most loving, empathetic person, who cares most about his family, is exceedingly brilliant academically, speaks fluent French, and is leaning Mandarin? The world’s first neurosurgeon with a good bedside manner? Or something they haven’t come up with yet, maybe.

For now, I’m choosing not to worry about your future career. Instead, I’m going to choose to put my phone down more, look you in those wide green eyes, hold your freckle face in my hands, and tell you how proud I am as much as possible.

..and that girl, the one going to the dance with your friend? well, in my opinion, she’s missing out on the best, most loving and remarkable heart breaker she will ever know.

I love you.
forever and ever.
no matter what,

Kristin - He’s amazing. and you are such a wonderful mom.September 21, 2015 – 1:07 pm

hootenannie - This makes my heart swell up – and also break into a million pieces. I am so proud of him. He is so special (and I know that all kids are, but he is EXTRA special). He deserves the whole wide world, and I can’t wait to see what that means for him.

Dying about the Greek mythology. :) September 9, 2015 – 1:08 am