guest posters rock: Andventures in Babywearing

Love me tender.

My little monkey-girl climbs up on the couch, sprawls across my lap interrupting whatever I am doing, and assumes her nursing position.

She won't keep a shirt on. And I am gentle and I let her run around the house without one until I can catch her.

But some days I don't want to be gentle. I need to be firm. I am In Charge. And [feel like I] am always barking orders at the bigs and letting the littles get away with everything.

Hard - soft - Hard - soft - Hard - soft

I sometimes forget which role I am, the love? Or the correct? The love-ing corrector. Or the steel-shelled love-r.

It's hard to put on and take off in time. I love, always love. But the outside repels the bullets and arrows.

Sometimes they poke through my armour.



With love,
Stephanie- Adventures In Babywearing

guest posters rock: Hounds in the Kitchen

When my daughter was three, she pressed pencil to paper and pronounced this creation a kiss.



Over a period of weeks she drew another



and another and more not pictured here.



The kiss includes a spiral, imagery of the sun, and a positive/plus sign. Surely she had no idea the meanings ascribed to these symbols, but they are there.

My darling's artistry has progressed now. She draws worlds full of animals, families, and homes. She scribbles words and dictates detailed stories. Nothing on the reams of paper in her artwork boxes strike me like the kiss.

Rachel is my local food goddess who runs Hounds in the Kitchen. She has chickens in her backyard and local food in her kitchen and always a smile for me.

guest posters rock: Secret Agent Mama

What did I leave at "home"?

I left the negativity. I left the judgments. I left the looking down through glasses that are never rose colored. I left sadness. I left despair. I left heartache. I left disappointment. I left my parents and their constant disapproval. And I went home.

Home to positive. Home to where there aren't any judgments. Home where I have my rose colored glasses on. Where there is happiness, hearts full, proper challenges, and ever-pending success.

Sometimes when you leave something, no matter how hard it is to leave it, it's for the best.

I hope I can go back one day.

I hope they will welcome me.
And I hope we will agree to accept each other, and our differences.

I hope that we can leave the past and start living in the future.

I am willing, but only if they can see me.

Really see me and respect me for that path that I have chosen to travel.


My conference roomie Mishelle wrote this workshopping piece
in the Writer's Craft Workshop at Blissdom a few weeks ago.
Her photos are on flickr.

guest posters rock: Uncle Beefy

Hi Kids, it's your Uncle Beefy! No, not the one you wanna avoid at the family picnic because of plaid pants and that odiferous ben-gay scent. But the one in plaid pants who's fun to hang with havin' some cocktails! C'mon! Well, that's what the nurses here at the institution tell me anyway. I kid! There are no nurses here in solitary confinement! ;) Yeah, don't worry I'm done.

Now. If any of all y'all know me, you know that I am something of a foodie. Not the snobby kind but more the kind who just j'adores food. I love it ritzy and high-brow, or peanut shells on the ground nitty gritty (but if we go "nitty gritty" just don't let anyone beat me up).

One of my most beloved food places to peruse was Gourmet Magazine and it's demise has left me bereft of culinary inspiration. Thankfully, thus far, they've had the good sense to at least leave the website in tact and you can find droves of Gourmet recipes over at Epicurious. Whew! So I just thought I'd lead you to some of my all time favorites (and they're easy peasy, to boot!) that I've tried over the years. As you're about to witness, I am not a man afraid of a carb or two. Dr. Atkins and I? Oh, we woulda had a serious throw down!!! A'ight! So grab a glass o' champagne (Rule #1 - Only drink champagne between the times of 6:00am & 5:59am.) and see if you don't find a little kitchen inspiration for this week!

Keep it fresh, y'all!

Recipe links:

Alsatian Cheese Tart
Gemelli with Broccoli Rabe and Anchovies
Fettuccine with Sausage and Kale

Nectarine Golden Cake
Oven Crespella with Nutella Sauce


Oh my. How I love me some Uncle Beefy.

guest posters rock: Sundays with Stretchy Pants

It seems fitting that I would be filling in for Amy because I have been called "Amy" for most of my life, even though my name is Abby. I guess "Abby" is just one of those seriously hard to pronounce, exotic names like Lisa or Jenny. I don't mind. Thank you, Amy, for asking me over. I think you and your blog are beautiful and I hope I don't sully it up around here with my severe lacking in everything.

In honor of Amy and her supreme enjoyment of love letters, I'm going to tell you perfect strangers about my favorite love letter. It's from 1992 and it's from the man who would become my husband, written on the occasion of my going to Planned Parenthood to get my pap and pills.

Back then, I could get a three-month supply of pills and all of the condoms I could carry for a $7 donation. I always felt self-conscious grabbing handfuls of condoms with the nurse standing right there while I greedily stuffed them into my little brown paper sack. As if the nurse was all, "Is that how much sex you're gonna have? And I'm supposed to believe you're gonna use a condom every time? I know damn well you'll be in here with The Clap next month." It would have been better if it was like one of those game shows where you go into the booth and grab as much flying money as you can in a certain amount of time.

"Welcome back to Condom Grab! The game show that helps keep your pudenda stupendous! Our contestant, Amy is getting ready to grab as many condoms as she can in 60 seconds. You ready, Amy?"
"Uh, it's Abby."
"OK Amy, when you hear the buzzer, lasso those love gloves and remember, always cover the stump before you hump!"
Totally would've taken the pressure off.

Anyway, it was late fall of my senior year and I had let my pills run out because I wasn't seriously dating anybody and that's what happens when you're 17 and the nearest Planned Parenthood is 25 miles away. So inconvenient! In order to get more, I had to get a pap smear and the whole shebang and I whined about it a bit. All that scooting down to the end of the table, the stirrups, that speculum, the judgment. I whined a bit and when I left school on the appointed day, I found this note under the windshield wiper of my car, hastily stuck there before Bryan ran off to basketball practice. I can't just re-type it, I have to show it to you:



I hope you can see the smiling sun, the birds in the sky, and giant flowers all drawn to cheer me in my hour of need. Isn't it soothing? I can tell by the "Get well soon!" that I may have oversold the trauma of the pap smear just a bit, but that's OK. And, yes, he spelled my name wrong. Later he said he was confused because "Abby" has two Bs so he figured "Abigail" must have two also but I think one of my friends set him straight. I was just super glad he didn't write "To: Amy." That would've been super awkward.

Abby is a local friend & blogger who writes Sundays with Stretchy Pants and Kids Know Stuff.

guest posters rock: Vanessa Druckman

Some might call me a thief.

I prefer to think of myself as a collector.

A collector of words.

All day and all night, I prowl, and when a word strikes my fancy, I don't pause, I don't blink, I don't hesitate. I pounce and I gather these effervescent butterflies of verbiage into my writer's notebook. I like knowing they're there, captured on the page, tattooed into my subconscious, bringing a little light into my word.

Feverishly, I scribble:

turbulence, flatulence and tumescence

multitude, platitude, and servitude.

Virulent, vitriolic, and vulgar.

Voluptuous, rotund, and mellifluous.

The more I take, the more I see. And carefully I sprinkle them throughout my day, dolling them out like decadent chocolates to those that cross my path.

At school pick up, I wish the teachers a splendid soiree.

At snack time, I tell my son to stop being an odious villain to his little sister.

When my daughter talks back, I ask her to stop being irreverent.

And as everyone shovels in their macaroni and cheese with contended sighs, I say that it must be as succulent as they expected.

And with so many radiant words swirling around us, our monochromatic winter world explodes with possibilities, sending me on the prowl once again... craving words.

Vanessa is a local blogger I adore.
She runs the SV Ohio moms blog and is a damn good sushi roller.

guest posters rock: mackinink

hi. it's me...karey m. of mackin ink and one-half of the t.ruffle girls. i wanted to come over and tell you a story.

just about the sweetest thing happened last week. i think of it still, and my eyes mist like mad. you might need to read this to better understand why. now or later or whenever or even never. i'm not terribly demanding about things like this.

so. my grae-rose was coloring with my esmé, while my lillie was somewhere else not making mischief for once. i've been thinking about my sister a lot lately. memories of her slap me awake some days. cradle me calm on others.

but grae started singing. and i'm not one to tell you i have the prettiest, the smartest, the fastest, best best best of the rest, do you know? that would just make both of us feel awkward and, at some point or another, you'd have to break it to me that they're not as -est as i think they are. they are pretty funny, and i do enjoy the heck out of those three. i'll tell you about that another time, though. back to grae's voice.

clear. as a canary.

i stopped drinking my coffee. put down my pen. let my computer sleep. just...stopped. i could've sat there all afternoon listening to my girl.

but what wrecked me? what completely chewed up my heart and swallowed it whole without even saying can you pass the butter, please? was watching the way esmé looked at her older sister while she sang. no need for more apple juice. she put down her crayon. rested her chin in her hand. just...stopped. i bet she could've sat there all afternoon listening to her girl.

did i ever tell you my sister used to sing to me?

thanks for inviting me over, amy. i am terribly fond of you. oh. one more thing. mary and i have this shoppe. would you like to buy some candy for your soul? we made it just for you. xoxo, friends. karey m.

guest posters rock: Gregory Beauchamp

WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER:
Anonymous Holly said...

The prints are all fab :) I adore both FOOD and HOMESTEAD, but ALPHABET is my absolute favorite!

Thank you yourself for sharing your wonderful artwork and thoughts and the smiles they brought me.

Always,
Holly
CONGRATS HOLLY! xoxo Thanks Greg!




hi there. my name is gregory, i sell art on etsy, and i'm amy's guest today. thanks for reading.

i used to get a lot of christmas cards as a kid. brother, sister, parents, aunts, uncles, old babysitter, godparents, and grandmas who always slipped in a dollar. many of these cards required thank you notes which mom would say needed to be on her desk by the end of the week. late on the final afternoon i would write one master note and duplicate it for each person. all the relatives on my father's side lived within a one mile radius of each other in a small township in the upper peninsula of michigan and i often wondered if they got together and compared thank you notes, discovering they were all the same. and if they did this, i always hoped they realized that there wasn't any laziness in the sameness of sentiment, but instead, as a kid, there are only so many ways to say i love you.

so when was the last time you got a thank you? well...today, as the guest, i'm saying thank you to you and to amy. last year she graciously gave an hour to a stranger over the phone and from those 60 minutes, i'm more of an artist today then i was ten months ago. THANK YOU AMY.

and for you there's a piece of art at – beauchamping.etsy.com – it's a thankful giveaway. go ahead and take a look...if you see something you like, leave a comment, tell us which one and why, and we'll pick one person to receive their choice as a special thank you for being here yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Everyone else gets a new car. : )

cheers, gregory

art winner chosen by random.org on Monday!
sorry no cars

Little Alouette has a new tumblr

Come check it out!

I would love some guest parents for short (one paragraph) posts!

think tips, tricks, life, fun, questions, thoughts, photos, inspiration!

Email me at amy at littlealouette dot com

my friend Nona Dell up there is looking so cute huh?
Natalie let me borrow her.

Anything goes/but don't blink you might miss it

I have these familiar strangers in my town. I love it. This guy and his giant dog Chaucer. Finn is scared shitless of Chaucer and frankly so am I a little. He has this growly growl that his owner says is friendly. Who knows.
I just love that I rolled up beside them today. I love that the dude was obviously enjoying one of his last convertible rides of the year.
Love it.
I am guest posting over at Petit Elefant this week. Come visit? I am going to talk about parties all week!

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To that place where you can't remember/ And you can't forget

I'm guest posting over at secret agent josephine today. Come on over and check out traditions.

also keep bidding!
teethers are at 40
vintage outfit at 15
love letter 50

kiss kiss

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But the new road is an old friend/Fill it up again

Hello! My name is Erin and I'm thrilled to be guest blogging for Amy, as she is busy gallivanting and bettering the blogging universe at Blogher.

This is a fabulous chance for me to take blogging more seriously because I have a hard time pulling it together for my own blog, although I'm working on that. Lately there has been so much going on in my life, and that of my family, that it is hard to know what should get priority. I have my little business on Etsy, my husband has his business with construction and painting, and then there are the kids... Willow and Tucker. With all of our goings on, I feel like they get whatever attention and time is left sometimes, and to help remedy that, we have finally almost finished their playroom. This is their own universe, where their ideas rule, and they don't have to clean it up everyday (just every week). They are ecstatic when it's time to play in the playroom. It is full of all sorts of bits and bobs that I would have gotten rid of, but now have a fabulous home that isn't in my living room. I really believe that it is important for them to have a room that isn't subject to the rules of everyday life. To Willow, everything has a personality, whether it be a Barbie or a hunk of plastic cheese. And Tucker likes all his toys out in the open where he can see them at the same time. And who am I to argue? Long live the Playroom!

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