Hi, I’m Shelly. I’m a mom to four kids. Also, a recycled student who recently finished a master’s degree in digital media because who could resist getting a graduate degree in Facebook, YouTube, Pinterest?!

I blog about stuff that happens to be on my mind. Some days I’m writing to the Bachelor, or talking about faith and forgiveness, or thinking about what’s sexy to me. Other days, I’m just organizing stuff and talking about life with my crazy kids.

I wear a lot of labels these days that I never expected would apply to me: Divorced. Single. Mother of four. Life used to resemble something a little more Rockwell-ish, if ol’ Norman had painted Chinese mothers into his pictures of Americana. Once upon a time, I met a boy named Eric in the first grade. We didn’t start dating then. He couldn’t drive. But when we got past cooties, the DMV, and college, we married. (Eric’s best man at our wedding sat at our table in the second grade.)

Eventually, we had four children. Yeah. Four.

Ryan, Megan, Paige and baby Katie

I worked for an international Christian humanitarian organization. It would be fun to think I was doing nothing less than ending world hunger and bringing about world peace, but most days I sat in meetings and stayed late at the office striving to empty an overflowing email in-box. Eric framed his engineering diploma and became a stay-at-home Dad.

It’s hard to know where the road actually veers off of Plan A onto Plan B. People generally don’t wake up one morning thinking, “I should blow up my marriage and walk out on my wife and kids.” Instead, one usually starts down a path with small steps. It begins with little justifications. Small decisions to not disclose something.

I used to be friends with Angela, a woman in our church. We hosted baby showers for each other, shared maternity clothes, and traded our kids’ clothes between us. Later, I found out we were sharing my husband as well. Eric and I divorced. They married.

It’s been a journey. When Eric and I separated, our three youngest kids were all under 4 years of age. If life wasn’t crazy enough, I added Whistler, a Black Labrador/Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy to our family because I’m a firm believer in entropy, I guess.

I used to know so much more about life and love, kids and kin before life got started. Today, I know much less than I used to. There’s only this much iNgo/know: There’s a lot of life and laughter to be had on Plan B. It wasn’t what I necessarily mapped out, but life is good these days.

This is me with my now 18-year-old daughter, Megan: Megan tells me this blog would be much more meaningful to people if I were dying of a serious disease. We’re going to go with less meaning for now.

My twins, Ryan and Paige, are 14, but these photos are from a few years back because I’m too lazy to find updated ones, and as teenagers, they don’t like the photos I’d share anyway.


And here is Paige, when she was about 10.


Katie, my youngest, is now 12. When she was in pre-school, she wanted to grow up to marry Whistler. Or become an elf and work for Santa in the North Pole. These days she talks about going to law school in New York. Sit for the bar exam or play reindeer games. Who knows, but she still has some time to decide. Katie: 

Sure, there are days that could drown a navy seal, but then I remember what my friend Erinn told me, “What doesn’t kill you, makes you a blogger!”

Good to have you along for the journey,  


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