Just Another Car Ride To School

Lunch boxes; Check. Winter Jackets; Check. Diaper bag; Check. Thanks to 105.3 FM & The Beastie Boys for the funniest car ride to school yet; Check!

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.

Kimberly Crawford

Three’s A Crowd: Toddlers and Toilet Etiquette

I was recently asked by one of my girlfriends,

“Will I ever be able to go to the bathroom by myself again now that I have kids?”

I laughed and thought back to being pregnant with Ziva. 

The first trimester of pregnancy is rarely fun for any woman, let alone a mom of two warrior boys under the age of 4 who have a panache for not standing still longer than 10 seconds.

Per my typical early pregnancy routine, I was perched over the trashcan in prime position to regurgitate my lunch. But today was special. I also had the “runs”… ah, what’s a mom to do…

So I am in the bathroom, trying to puke my guts out and I have a pouty 4 year old who is unsatisfied with the lunch menu. “You know I hate Mac n’ cheese! Why did you make it?! I won’t eat THAT. Its GROSS!“

As Luke is lamenting over the sub-par lunch menu, my clingy 2 year old is trying to attach himself to my leg. Remember, I am sitting on the porcelain throne as all this is going down.

In a sudden surge of authority, Jax decides he wants to help out. “Bend over mommy! Wipe now!”  His tiny fist was full of enough toilet paper it could have been used to gag a Giraffe.     “I wipe you! Mommy move! I wipe you now!” I attempted to swat him off me as my Gene Burns incarnate continued to verbally assault Restaurant Mom with poor reviews.

Seriously? SERIOUSLY?!

I just looked at my friend, smiled and said, “Nope.”

Laugh hard. Love strong. Live to serve.

Xoxo- Kim Crawford




A sleepy house. Alone with my thoughts (sounds much more romantic than it really is.) 11:56 PM, 2011; reflection consumes me. I can’t seem to get past reviewing this very evening, let alone the year that has fallen through my fingers. 

 A few hours earlier, Mike danced around the kitchen creating his traditional Lobster New Year’s Feast. The boys were more interested in posing for pictures with the poor crustaceans than filling eager bellies. As Mike prepared the shelled beasts for their final bath, Luke pleaded for us to reconsider his request of keeping one as a pet. Not a chance kid.

When Mike presented the dinner, Luke wasn’t interested in eating the remains of his ill fated friend and gorged himself on gluten free noodles and salad. 

Jax was over dinner entirely and felt it was his sole mission that evening to be the table’s “lemon czar”. Even after taking away the bowl of quartered citrus, he’d somehow manage to make some re-appear.

“Where is he getting these?” I kept asking Mike, as if he had some inside intel and wasn’t sitting across from me, watching the same scene unfold. 

“Mmmmmooorre lemon?” he would purr as he strangled the pulp and seeds of the mangled fruit into the butter, nearly knocking the lobster tail off my plate. “Hmmm?” His eyes sparkled and I couldn’t help but laugh. At three years old, Jax has the crooked, Captain Jack Sparrow grin down and was showing it off while squeezing the life out of yet another rouge lemon.

With Ziva balanced on my lap, I surveyed my dinner table and smiled. I am blessed. Stealing a glimpse at each of them, I desperately tried to take a mental snapshot of the moment: A sentimental husband who worked hard to fulfill a family tradition, even though three of this years guests were 5 and under and would have been happy with noodles and jam. My oldest son, the “pet” collector. His heart so enormous, so tender, it sometimes takes my breath away. My son, Jax; juice dripping from his elbows and through his tiny fingers, his grin consuming his face. Offering me tart lemony kisses. My baby blessing; blue-eyed bunny-boo Ziva. Her eyes, a light-house guiding my sense of motherhood to a whole new horizon.

My heart breaks with gratitude. Happy 2012 my beautiful ones.

Laugh Hard. Love Strong. Live to Serve.

-Kimberly Crawford