It Takes a Village

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My husband’s job can be kind of demanding and he has always worked pretty long hours. So my role, in our home and with our kids, includes all household operations. I’m the COO around here. Basically everything but the garbage cans to the street. When I have an appointment or I fall ill or I have conflicting commitments, he usually can’t bail me out. Which is why I have never understood how people (especially people with kids) live in another state, away from family and friends. If I had to do this without family and friends, I probably would’ve stopped with one. But by some miracle, long before kids were on our radar, we were planted in a community that would come to be my saving grace. My village. My family nearby and a network of women that would come to mean a lot to me.

Recently, I watched a documentary about contentment and what makes us truly happy. The front running commonality from country to country was people who live in self-sustaining communities are the happiest, working and living and sharing in responsibilities together and I know (mostly) what they’re talking about. It may be a jillion miles away, with huts and no running water, it may be a compound outside Salt Lake City (wink-wink) or a beehive, I understand it now, you need your own little community to survive, to thrive and especially to raise kids.

Last week, I was sick and without having to ask, one-by-one, offers to pick up, drop off, take for play dates came flooding in. Never having to even ask for help. Picking up my slack and entertaining my kid. And almost a year ago, when we were robbed two freaking days before Christmas and our gifts unwrapped and stolen: baskets of goodies, toys for the kids, gift cards left on our front step. It’s so good to know that if God forbid, something really bad happens, I have a village of people that will jump to the aid of my family. I sometimes cringe that though I live just miles from the city, I’ve localized and have become so removed from city life but I’d gladly sacrifice my familiarity with new restaurants and hot happenings to be part of something that enriches my kids’ lives and mine like this neighborhood.

To my village, my family and my ladies of the 98177, I salute you, I thank you, I bake you dozens and dozens of imaginary cookies but more importantly, when you have jury duty or you’re sick or you have conflicting soccer games, I have your back. I may not be schlepping your well water to your hut but I’ll drive your kids to a Pump it Up birthday party. And that’s kinda the same thing, right??

The many, many, many uses for baby wipes

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Listen up, Singletons, DINKS, pregnant friends: I often ask myself how I lived without baby wipes. I couldn’t have known what I was missing out on. That’s why this is a public service announcement to all of you. Kids are not required, baby wipes are. Baby wipes have become the peanut butter to my jelly. The cream to my coffee. They complete me. They serve both my husband’s OCD and my germophobia. If they asked me to name three things I would want on a desert island, I’m not sure what the other two would be but I’m sure of baby wipes. If you don’t have babies and have never bought baby wipes, I encourage you to explore them now. Do not waste precious child-free years without including baby wipes in your life. Here is just a few of their uses:

  • Dirt booger extractor
  • Sponge bather
  • Hand washer
  • Last minute table duster
  • Cold compress
  • Eye flusher
  • Crack sweat eliminator
  • Ear cleaner
  • Toe jam remover
  • Toilet and sink wiper
  • Arm pit freshener
  • Car interior detailer
  • Cooling face mask
  • To block the sun
  • To clean the grocery cart handle
  • To remove human and/or animal feces
  • To calm a hemorrhoid

The list could go on and on and I’m sure some of you have uses that far exceed my wildest dreams. But if you don’t…if before this, you didn’t even know they existed…run, don’t walk to Costco and buy a big, bulk box of baby wipes. You’re welcome.