Britany B
Britany is currently lost in Houston, but not worried because she brought plenty of snacks. An avid traveler with a wild, squishy heart--she birthed one baby in New Orleans, the other, in Amsterdam. She recently bought a dog, named him Dragon, and brags to strangers about it. In a former life, she owned a wedding planning business; misses the free cake, the most. When she isn’t avoiding cooking AT ALL COSTS, she is trying to squeeze out some good words, hoping to make a living by using her imagination and pen to scare children (the next great kidlit series, they say). She prefers her drinks dirty. Is anxious. Kind of wishes it was Halloween. And will likely hug you a beat too long and make it weird.
Dear Sister :: I Swaddle and I Know Things {Motherhood Secrets from your Big...
Sister,
Just to be clear, while you are rocking that bump, I could literally beat you in ANY footrace.
Also, I'd likely dominate at anything that involves hiding. Or recalling objects from memory. Or, like, reaching...
Chance of Rain :: The Seven Day Storm {A Panic Attack Story}
I didn’t politely sit down on the couch. I crumbled, face first, weary and defeated, into the nearest cushion.
Didn’t even glance for crumbs. Wouldn’t have minded their indentions.
It was after 9:00 PM, but before...
Leftovers :: Scars, Party Napkins, and Other Remains
I try not to take it personally—I’m not known for my cooking prowess or adventurous nature in the kitchen.
It’s certainly not why he married me.
But as my children leave half of their lovingly prepared...
On Humility :: A Mother Brags About Befriending Monsters and Lying to Her Children
When my son was three years old, he became friends with a fly.
This story doesn't end well.
Not knowing the strong {very real} attachment my toddler had developed for the insect in the mere 75...
Turning Pages :: Read Across America Day
I remember exactly how many pages my mother got through before pausing to lick the very tip of her right index finger. An almost formidable act, followed immediately by a quick turn of the...
The Things We Give :: Pretzel-colored Eyes and the Night Sky
“Mama, what color are your eyes?”
It seems obvious. But I'll play along.
If I had to say a specific color, I’d say it’s a toss up between “puppy poop” brown and “the crunchiest part of...
On Cheer :: Anxiety and the Holidays {We’re Gonna Need Stronger Nog}
Dolly's voice normally signifies the beginning of my holiday season. The Chipmunks, though not as reliable, often have the same affect.
I'm a sentimental fool. Christmas just exacerbates that.
I'm the chick that ugly cries during...
Hindsight :: The Importance of Scattered Legos and Coffee Dates
I am a horrible mother.
We were five minutes late for morning circle time. Again. His teachers, disappointed, but not shocked. I gave them my most remorseful look {it's all in the eyebrows} and rotated...
On Dreaming :: Bright Lights and Chasing Big Things
I married a rockstar. Hair, natural and long, the reason for some of his best tips. He had a rendition of Rocketman that would break your heart.
Easy on the eyeballs, too.
He played at local...
We’re Gonna Need Bigger Hats :: Making Houston Home
My walls are bare, I never unpacked the good dishes, and I still don’t know my neighbor’s name.
{Their dog's name is Buddy; I'm not a complete jerk.}
We've been living in Houston for almost two...