We had a perfect beach day Sunday.

You know, when you get there early and leave at dinnertime.

We started off at Makua Beach where the three walking kiddos and I hung out on the rocks playing with crabs and watching tiny fish.

We had hoped to glimpse the spinner dolphins, but we overslept so we weren’t quite early enough for them. We will try again though.

Then we headed to Pokai beach where we met up with my brother and his family, as well as some of his friends.

I may have squealed when I first got in the water that I’m done with winter and ready for warmer (don’t slay me, you acclimate, even in warm weather. So it does seem chilly here sometimes).

My brother brought his kayak and J and I braved it with the two babes.

I wore Bean in my mesh ring sling and Sweet M sat with J. I felt pretty badass, not gonna lie, as I paddled that kayak and breastfed that baby without skipping a beat.

I am woman, hear me roar, and all that jazz.

Of course, no awesome beach day is complete without a trip to the ER.

We weren’t home even 15 minutes before Mr. B stepped on something (who knows what?) and we were off to the ER for stitches. Ouch!

He had it made though. Private room with on demand TV. The doctor himself brought him juice and graham crackers.

I’m so thankful that the ER here is freaking fabulous, but a bit disheartened that I can say it with certainty; it’s not a one time fluke. We’ve been there 4 times now during our time here, and every single time they’ve gone above and beyond. Other hospitals ought to take note and figure out what they’re doing to be so amazing.

Needless to say, I’m exhausted and now we can’t go to beach for two weeks.

At least it wasn’t a broken leg.

I think the most challenging aspect of having four babes is the lack of 1:1.

I also think it’s one of the greatest gifts; there is no possibility of them becoming too self-centered because they simply know the world doesn’t revolve around them.

They know that needs and wants aren’t the same thing, and sometimes they may want xyz but someone else has a legitimate need that must be met first. It’s a fine line, of course, of cultivating a loving, empathetic, and selfless little heart as opposed to being jealous and hostile; but the majority of the time they blow me away with how loving and mature and selfless they truly are.

I love getting time with them individually, whether it’s baking muffins or reading a story or a quick snuggle while the others are at play. And sometimes it’s more; movies or dinners or grocery shopping.

I’ve learned with time that 1:1 doesn’t have to be big. It can be building duplos or helping to wash their hair or even just catching their eye while they’re doing something, so that they know that I truly see them.

I’ve often heard people say “I could never have x amount of kids because I could never give them each the attention they deserve.” I get that fear. I do. But let me tell you, you can give them enough attention, and at the same time you’ll never give them enough, even if its just one kiddo. It ebbs and flows and in some seasons you will be swinging high and in others you’ll miss the mark.

Fortunately, it all makes for beautiful life lessons and opportunities to teach the imperfectness of humanity.

I am so thankful for each one of them, and all the little moments that make us connected.

They are precious.

They are loved.

They are so deeply wanted.

Everything else will fall into place.

Still Here

Things have been cray cray around here lately.

So many changes. So many happenings.

It’s starting to shape up like we will be here another year. Lots of feels on that. But until anything is actually official, I’m going to ignore all those feelings (we love it here, we love Btown, too. There is no right or wrong here – just happy I’m not the one who has to make that choice).

I still need to collect my thoughts on having an EIGHT year old. I swear she seems so dang grown up, even though she’s really still just a little girl.

She is a bottle full of sass, but also the most helpful, loving human I know. I hope that never changes.

Mr. B is currently being my challenge. I appreciate that they all rotate that job amongst themselves to keep things fresh.

He is ridiculously smart and funny, and obviously I find him pretty cute to boot. But he has this need to show how physically powerful he is at all times, and it’s killing me.

I’m not an aggressive person. In fact, I have a really hard time handling any sort of aggression or acts that can be perceived as violent, which is I know, why he has been particularly challenging for me lately.

I know that all kids, not just boys, need to have a healthy amount of physical play. But it seems like it goes from fun to not in less than a second. I don’t want to be the mom who is constantly telling him to put the stick down or to keep his hands to himself, but I honestly don’t know what else to do.

I need him to learn that there is a line, a very hard line, and if something is not fun for someone else he must stop.


No questions asked.

And he is getting there. And he is only 6. But it’s a struggle for me. Because I want the world to perceive him and know him as the same sweet, kind, generous soul I do. Not the rowdy kid who is always toeing the line.

And then there is Sweet M. Oooooh boy.

I apologize to everyone in the world who has ever had an ornery toddler.

I mean, H and B were toddlers. And neither of them were particularly easy toddlers, but I also only had two and of them and it all seemed manageable in those years.

I guess it’s safe to say that my house is utter chaos right now and everything is falling apart.

Okay, that’s not true. I mean, everything is chaos, but that’s completely normal. And it’s still relatively holding together at the seams.

But that Sweet M is the orneriest of the ornery, I tell you. He is sweet and mischievous and ridiculously precocious like his big sister. And he knows when he is being ornery and it’s pretty much impossible to be serious with him because he is so dang cute and funny. Lord help me with this one.

And then mighty Bean. Time is zooming by and she’s all ready a solid 7 months old.

She’s officially cut 6 teeth and she crawls backwards and can get herself into sitting and standing position from laying down.

She eats and she hates napping and I’m trying to cherish it all.

We did a 5k as a family this past weekend at Kualoa Ranch (you know, where JurassicWorld and Lost, etc., were filmed), and that was super fun. It was quite muddy from all the crazy rains we’ve been having so we opted to wear the littles and forego the stroller which officially made it a walk instead of run for us. But it’s okay, it was probably more fun that way anyway.

Things have been so busy and cray cray lately that we’ve not done enough as a family. Hopefully we will get back into our groove as it is much needed, and we are all happier when we are spending time as a family in nature.

Anyway, we are still here. Still strumming along.

Yellow Belt

Today this sweet boy of mine earned his yellow belt in kempo.

Cool, right?

There are no words to express all the feels I have about this. He literally defied “limitations” he didn’t even know were there.

When he was 14 months old he had lead poisoning. With high numbers. Numbers that just kept climbing instead of decreasing month after month.

His pediatrician was not an alarmist, but she was honest.

Lead affects the brain.

It creates life long behavior issues.

It creates neurological limitations. The inability to focus. The inability to remember simple routines. (Think of many symptoms of having ADHD, she said.) It can even affect balance.

Honestly, it can do so, so much more.

When B was diagnosed and those numbers kept rising, I was vocal about this scary invader. VI learned so much, and like to think that maybe I helped even just one other person learn things and prevent their babe from getting sick during that period of our lives.

What a quiet, evil, poison.

But I was quiet about what the future may have in store for B because I didn’t know how to handle all of that guilt of not protecting him from a ghost I didn’t know he needed protected from in the first place.

I wanted him to bring his best game and not have excuses to fall back onto.

Truthfully, I didn’t want it to be my fault that maybe he wouldn’t get the most out of this life, even if it was just the “little things” affected.

But today.

Today he earned his yellow belt.

It seems like such a small thing, but for me, it’s everything.

It’s proof that he is not the limitations to a diagnosis he doesn’t even know about. It’s proof that his life’s truth is that he can do anything he puts his mind to.

He is more than the scary number of a blood test.

He is strong and fierce and a force to be reckoned with.

Look at what he’s all ready accomplished in his short life.

Despite the odds.

This Week in a Nutshell

This week has been unusual for us with spring break having the kids co-op classes and sports cancelled, one friend being carless, another having a sweet new foster babe (swoon! How do those precious newborn days fly by so quickly!?), and two others had friends and family visiting.

And although we so love our busy routines and we’re missing those this week, we also had a lot of fun changing things up a bit. We had some mighty needed downtime and I finally got to watch Coco with the kids one rainy afternoon. Omg. I know I’m late to the game, but if you haven’t seen it, do it now! So, so good.

We had one leisurely morning at zoo. The kids were so happy to do nothing but hang out in the keiki zoo and on the playground for the most part.

Then we headed over to the Keiki 2 Keiki store and got Bean a bouncer. And I had so many conflicted thoughts on it, because I’m trying to do better now that I know better. And I know that seats and props that put them into positions that they can’t get into or do themselves are super inauthentic to their development, but whatever. She freaking loves it. And for $20 I got a break from her anguish of not being as big as her siblings and she thinks she’s hot sauce and – this is the best part – the music part was all ready broke on it so I don’t even have to lie to my kids about the batteries being dead. The annoying thing doesn’t make any additional annoying music. Woot!

We finally had time hit up the chiropractor, who saved my neck from this awful kink I’ve been battling. And Bean clapped after he adjusted her – her first claps ever!

We went on an adventure to a part of the North Shore we’ve never really explored before. There was a fun playground and the beach was calm and beautiful (but it was a little too chilly for a proper swim).

Then we hit up the North Shore Soap Factory. The kids were excited to be given a small piece of soap each that they could stamp as they pleased.

I had ample time to research car seats after we were side swiped last week and Bean is going to need a new seat. Le sigh.

And we finished our week with a huge brunch at our house with friends. A much needed time of play, food, and good company!

I’m trying so hard not to think about the fact that our time on this island is numbered. The weeks are dwindling. It’s so bittersweet.

I’m not even a little bit ready to leave the friends we have made here. They’ve become a village truly, in a way I’ve never experienced, and didn’t even realize how badly I needed until I had it. I can’t imagine that this isn’t the place and the people my children will grow up with. Ugh. I can’t even write this without getting teary eyed.

On the other hand, I’m ready for space. I’m thankful we got to give small house living a go. And if we didn’t have kids this house would be a perfect size, ha. But I’m ready to spread out in our living quarters. I miss our regular dirt that washes out as opposed to this red dirt.

I miss being able to get in the car and drive…anywhere. Across the country.

I miss the kids’ amazing school. Homeschooling has been fun, but Miss H has missed school so much that I miss it for her, too. Though it’s admittedly been so much fun having her home all day every day.

Oh man. I’m going to end this now. It’s quickly devolving into craziness.

Corpse Flower, Missing Kid , and a Maimed Leg

You guys, we know how to have fun around here.

Like really have fun.

I made my kids move this morning so we could beat the crowds (hey, you never know – there could be other weirdos out there!) and get to Foster Botanical Gardens to see the Corpse Flower in bloom.

It was worth it.

The smell of dead fish.

The brown, rotting flesh of the blooming flower that towered over me.

The looks on my kids’ faces, confirming what they’ve suspected all along: their momma is a nutcase.

I wrangled Sweet M into the stroller because hey! He’s 2 and a little cray cray and he also insisted on wearing his shark slippers (though that was short lived and he eventually broke free and went shoeless like the feral little person he is).

After we finished waiting in line to see the Corpse Flower (yes, there really was a line!), they got to run free amongst the gardens with some of their friends who joined us.

It’s been pretty crummy weather here all week. Chilly, cloudy, sprinkling here and there. I know, not even fair to complain when it could be snow like back in the Midwest, but I guess we are acclimated now, so.

Our tiny kid gang was roaming free, but in a group, and I suddenly realized I couldn’t spot…wait for it…Wait…can you guess which child I lost? I mean, it’s not even a surprise, right?

Sweet M. No where to be seen.

He loves to hide these days so I didn’t go into automatic panic mode, assuming he was hiding behind one of the larger trees. But once I ascertained he in fact was not, my heart started to creep into my throat.

Well, fuck.

Only six months into this 4 kid thing and I’d lost one. I’m still not sure if I was congratulating myself for having made it 6 months or lamenting it in that moment, to be honest.


I started yelling his name calmly. I’ve learned that I’m super calm and level headed in genuine moments of panic. It never fails to surprise me when it’s all done and over, because I feel wild and unleashed in those moments. Alas.

Suddenly I spotted him near the entrance, another momma and her crew talking to him. Sweet M was all chill and calm and I stared running for him because he seemed like he was a million miles away and I hadn’t seen him in years and I couldn’t believe that in the blink of an eye I’d lost him and oh my gosh.

He saw me and immediately burst into tears, the impact of his baby’s day out coming to an understanding. I think in that moment he realized he hadn’t been surrounded by a single person he knew, and he sprinted his tiny toddler legs to me and threw himself in my arms.

I wanted to burst into tears, but figured one of us should keep our cool, and it didn’t appear it was going to be the 2 year old.

So I scooped him up and mouthed “thank you” to the momma who’d been hanging with him and she smiled and took off with her kids. Probably to see the Corpse Flower. It’s all the rage right now.

Then after my nerves returned to a somewhat stable place and we were back with our friends, Miss H, sitting at a picnic table, suddenly said “ow, I scratched my leg.” She wasn’t too upset so I didn’t think much about it, but my friend looked closer and said there were splinters.

I walked over to look, and I’m not even going to lie, I’m so mad I attended to her before taking a photo of the gnarliness.

It was so much more than a splinter. Somehow she’d brushed her leg against a thick, thorny stick and had large thorns embedded in her leg. Some were in there like arrows and I am still amazed I removed them with my fingernails.

She was an absolute champ. I mean, she wasn’t thrilled, but she sat there and let me remove them all.

We finished our morning shenanigans with invading Zippy’s with our nine kids who seemed to mostly keep themselves composed (you guys, seeing my big kids function in society gives me so much hope that one day all of my kids will be a part of functioning, upstanding society and not completely feral. Just saying.)

Now it’s back to a lazy afternoon of baby cuddles, rain, school work, and maybe a movie.

Oh yeah, and I drank a whole coffee milkshake from Zippy’s with my kids being none the wiser so I didn’t have to share a single sip – so I’m calling today a win!

This Is Almost 30


This is me at almost 30.

I am so close I can almost taste it. If someone would’ve told me half a lifetime ago that this, this is where I would be at 30, I would’ve never in 1 million years have believed them. When I envisioned my life at that point, I was going to be much more educated. A highly successful lawyer. I was definitely not going to be married. And I wasn’t really planning on having kids until I was at least 40 and could afford a full-time nanny to raise my adopted brood. 🤷‍♀️

Oh yeah, and I would be at least 20 pounds lighter because I wouldn’t have four kids, or any steady relationships and thus I would have a whole lot of time to dedicate to nothing but looking hot.🙈

Oh the things I would say to 15-year-old me. That people who don’t go on to higher education are worthy and intelligent humans, too. That the most successful, high paying career is nothing if it isn’t your passion.

That you’re not too broken to be loved or to give love, and that there are people out their still who believe in the sanctity of marriage. Love shouldn’t hurt or make you angry or make you cry – unless they’re tears of happiness.

And that kid thing? You’ll be so happy to “ruin” your body to bring all those sweet blessings into this world over and over again. I probably would tell 15-year-old me to start saving for a nanny though. Nannies are expensive and kids are cray-cray, and you’re kind of committed once you have one. 😅

15-year-old me had big dreams. Such big dreams. But it turns out almost 30-year-old me is living even bigger and better dreams, and would have never believed it back then.

In all those big dreams and life goals, I never once put “happiness” on my list. Not once. But it turns out it’s the most important, and somehow I grabbed it before it could slip through my fingers.


This is me at almost 30.

It’s insane to me that we as women buy into the idea of the “perfect body.” And when we fail to “succeed” we beat ourselves up.

Instead of enjoying healthy, yummy food, we force ourselves into restrictive fad diets that we decide are the holy grail of all (vegan, paleo, keto, low fat…the list goes on).

Instead of enjoying an extra hour of sleep we push ourselves out of bed for insane workouts or miss our evening down time with our partner because we aren’t “disciplined” enough to get up early.

We spend hundreds of dollars on lotions and creams in hopes of ridding our body of the marks left behind from growing: growing through puberty, through pregnancy, through that month we only ate cookies and coffe, whatever.

Accepting a healthy, moderate diet, and getting exercise in by living life, not being regimental, is frowned upon. Those people don’t care or love themselves enough.

Or do they?

Maybe they love themselves so fiercely that they’ve given up on society’s pressures to look a certain way just because someone said so. Maybe they love themselves so much that they’re comfortable, happy even, in their own imperfect body.


I feel I can say now, without jinxing things that Sweet M is officially potty learned!

There is something bittersweet about ditching the diapers. Especially when your kiddo says big kid things like “okay” to just about anything you say to him like a big kid, and grunts, “yes, man!” and then laughs hysterically when you’re trying to be serious with him. It’s a huge milestone that you cannot ignore that your baby, well, isn’t really a baby anymore.

I’ve had a lot of emotions lately over this little guy. He was a baby when we moved here. Nearly bald. Hardly speaking.

Now he’s got shiny curls and a vocabulary that would surprise me if he didn’t have two older siblings who’d done it all first.

I reluctantly gave his baby sister her first bites of food this past week, but I’m not eager to give her much or make it a habit yet. And she can blame it on Sweet M.

I was utterly not prepared for him to wean cold turkey the day she was born. I will do whatever I must in order to prevent Darling F from weaning prematurely. You certainly cannot force a child to breastfeed who does not want to, but there are reasons that age 2 is the minimum that the WHO recommends weaning and I’ve got a lot of feels because M was only 18 months old (and I don’t care what others do, these are my own self-imposed expectations).

I know I should be happy that it was on his own terms. That is was a complete non-issue. No tears. He was ready…or forced into it by his sister’s birth, I don’t know.

Miss H had zero qualms tandem nursing with Mr. B and it was kind of the most beautiful thing to witness. And I rode it out, breastfeeding Sweet M throughout my whole pregnancy, even when it was uncomfortable because I was essentially dry because I knew the beauty of the pay out of tandem nursing.

But I didn’t get it.

And maybe that makes me selfish. Being upset because I didn’t get something. But I’m rarely selfish, so I’m okay with it.

We go back and forth, back and forth, pretty much on an hourly basis whether or not having just one more sweet babe makes sense for our family, but regardless, we know Darling F must be much older because I cannot go through her weaning so early, completely unprepared.

It seems like only yesterday that my tiniest babies were Miss H and Mr.B. And now they’re these big, fun, adventurous kids who have conversations and conjure up these big ideas. And Sweet M and Darling F are the babies and all ready Sweet M is growing so big and Darling F is practically 6 months old and time just needs to stand still for one day. Or two. Because it’s all going so quickly and I just want to catch my balance and hold them all so tight and not miss a second of this chaos because it’s all so magnificent and it’s all mine.

Oy. I know it’s sappy. I do. Give me a day. I will be counting down the days until they move out, I’m sure. But for now.

For now, Sweet M has potty learned and it’s a great milestone. It makes things easier. But also. It makes him bigger.

And that’s a great thing, too. Even if it is happening so quickly.

Breastfeeding is hard: treat yourself with nursing apparel

You would have thought that with all the years of breast-feeding experience I now have under my belt from having breast-fed the first three of my children until they self weaned, that breast-feeding Darling F would’ve been a breeze.

So it may come as a surprise, or to those who have been there and get it then it won’t, that I struggled.

I cried in those first few days. Sore nipples. Engorged breasts. Soaked clothes.

I asked myself repeatedly while I was doing this to myself.

Of course, when you’re not in the moment, the answer is clear. For me anyway. It’s what we want for our family and our kiddos (and our pocket books!).

For us, it works. But, oh man. The struggles. It’s real.

One thing I have allowed myself as a luxury for being the sole feeder of our children for the first year of their lives, is apparel that is easy to breast-feed in.

Sure, sure. All clothing is breast-feeding possible. I’ve worn a lot of tanks under T-shirts. I’ve won a lot of T-shirts without tanks under them and let the whole world see my post-pregnant belly while I’m out and about feeding. And I have no shame. None at all. I earned every single one of these marks and every extra inch, and all the wiggle and jiggle and pounds. And I’m totally cool with that. But it’s also nice to not always have to show it all to the world just to feed my kid.

One of my favorite breast-feeding friendly dresses comes from Milk and Baby. It’s super cute, it’s short enough that it’s fantastic in this Hawaiian climate but still covers my booty, and it makes breast-feeding on the go super discrete.

I love dresses. Other than maybe leggings, if I never had to wear pants again that’d be glorious. Glorious. But they’re also not easy for breastfeeding. I mean, I’m not a prude, but I also don’t want to hike a whole dress up and nurse my baby. I have a wee bit of modesty. And although some V-neck dresses get the job done, and I have some, they often get pulled out of shape if it’s not what they’re meant for.

So when all I have to do is pull this cute little Milk and Baby dress to the side to reveal a secret flap that lets me whip a boob out and feed my baby without anyone knowing, and the dress is ridiculously cute and comfortable to boot, I’m sold!

And I get it. Breastfeeding specific clothing is a luxury. You may only wear it for a year. Or if you’re like me and Miss H, you’ll get four whole years out of it, ha ha.

But you know what, mommas? You deserve it! You’re keeping your babies alive. Everywhere and anywhere that you go, every single day. You have the right to feel comfortable and look good doing it. So go treat yourself!

***This post is sponsored by Milk and Baby but all thoughts and opinions are genuine and mine alone.