You know you have a Mommy Blog when . . .

• You make cutesy graphics (that are perfect for pinning) with photoshop, picmonkey, or picasa 

• You have given sage advice on breastfeeding, teething, and/or sleep training 

• You have pictures of your kids plastered all over your blog

• There is a variation of the word mommy in your blog name or header 

• You've written a lengthy essay on why spilled milk will most definitely make you cry

• You frequent babycenter or another parenting site between posts

• There aren't just recipes on your blog. There are recipes that are ideal for hiding veggies.

• You've written a post that linked back to one or more mom-authored blogs

• You have written review posts about diapers, formula, and/or toys

• You've used your blog to defend your parenting "style"

• You try really hard to come up with content that isn't centered around your kids only to end up writing a lengthy expose about what a blessing your kids are to you

• Strangely, other moms seem to be constantly drawn to your little corner of the web

• You try to brainstorm for content ideas and everything revolves around breastfeeding, preschool, and/or other controversial topics like electronics in the home and organic food

• You distract the shortest people in your home with their favorite organic greek yogurt or homemade edible play-doh so you can check into your latest blog hop or link up 

• You know what a blog hop or link up is . . .

• You know the meaning of this gibberish: AP, Ped, DH, Ferber, CIO, BM, EBF, Latch, EP, FF, GMO, MIL, PnP, Crunchy, VBAC, SAHM, SAHD, WAHM, WAHD, NFP, TCOYF, TTC, POAS, PPD, Mobile, DTaP, Montessori, Common Core, Nuby, Boppy, Bumbo, Moby, CD

• You use made-up, cutesy names (possibly following a theme) to represent your family members

• Some company sent you baby stuff to review

• Your primary topics include things like . . . whatever moms discussed in PTA meetings in the 90s, whether it's better to be modern or old fashioned, and more pressing matters like how to organize seventy thousand toys

• Your top priority is your family and your personal blog has become just one more outlet for expressing that

• You just can't be put in a pigeon hole. "Mom" is a title that includes so many different people. "Mom" is now the simplest description of you without using ten thousand words

• You're carving out your section of the web just so you can enjoy networking with other moms and learning about different lifestyles in order to better your own.

• You have 15 trains of thought in your head at any given moment anyway . . . might as well write (or type) it all out!

<3 <3 <3

Is there anything you'd add to this list?

Taking the Kid's Toys Away

     It happened. We reached that point in the parenthood thing where we were fed up. Done. The TOYS were never-ending and never put away. It's barely a month after Christmas and they just don't give a rip that their new stuff is upside down or stepped on. Forget that noise. We took EVERY last toy away about a week ago*. I think. I think it was a week ago. It's Wednesday, right?

    Yeah, I just went and scrolled through my personal facebook page to see which day it was because I knew I posted about it. Ha. It was a week ago exactly! They have only earned one thing back (the duplo legos). Those have been taken back from them multiple times too.

      The cabin fever is real. We are out of our minds. Sunday was a sweet reprieve with the random 60 degree temps. We spent 3 hours at the park playing. But, we're right back below freezing with more nasty precipitation this week. Mind you, we've been to Chick-fil-a, the library, and the art museum more than once this month. We go let them walk around through the store** just to get some of the spare endless energy out. At this rate, they'll get their toys back when they are in their twenties.

    There's plenty to complain about. I could go on about it for a while. I'll just be quick about it though. Feel free to skip this part. [The kids are crazy. The toys are taking up space in our room. Stomp stomp. Wah wah. They don't seem to care that their toys are gone. It's not working. Failing. Failure. Why why whyyy?]

    As all of this is going down something wonderful is happening. My girl's imaginations are growing tenfold! They are great little pretenders and story makers as it were. But now. Wow! The big bed is a mountain. The toddler bed is a boat. The plastic storage boxes are the treasures. Socks are crocodiles. The cubby bookshelf is a "giant, giant bird house" with all kinds of crazy birds living in them with their babies. The tall bookshelf is a ladder to the spaceship (although my sensible side tells them NOT to climb it!). Their hands are paddles and phones and brushes for the invisible "good" animals. The closet is a "bad cave". Hubby and I are the monsters half the time. Pants and long-sleeved shirts have become capes. This is only a compilation of their ideas for ONE of the pretend games they play! How awesome is this?! I love it! Their play with the legos is even more creative now, in my opinion.

      We won't get rid of all of their toys. Some were begging to be put out of their misery, donated, or sold anyway. I think we're going to get a cabinet of some kind and put them all away rather than having them out and available all the time. I feel kind of guilty because I'm a 90s kid and Toy Story ruined me. Still. I use logic. Logic tells me . . . the toys won't feel too bad and they'll enjoy listening to the girls pretend all day.

    I think this will do them almost as much good as when we ban them to "be bored" outside on gorgeous days like my own parents did. They'll have to do terrible things like run around, play hide and seek, and dig holes. I can't wait! (Well, I can and I will but you know what I mean.)
    

*I will say we aren't pure evil/their giant eyes break my mommy heart so they got to keep their lovey animals that they sleep with and carry around everywhere. Also, they have their books. Books aren't toys.

** With us. We walk with them. They hold our hands and all that good stuff. I promise.