This is Real…

Real life in photos:

Real kids paint naked  Real dads makes baseball cupcakesReal moms get down and dirty Real miracles turn 10    Real streets get lamps   No matter where you are or what you’re doing, I pray you’ll keep it real!

XO b

Be aware of prepackaged meats

Hi my 2 Makes Crazy Readers…It’s me—Brooke.  The majority of the crazy—I normally try and post allergy-related posts on the site I write at in regards to my son and traversing this horrible field of food allergies, but this post should be shared with more people out there—and more parents.  It’s REALLY hard being a parent of a food-allergy child.  Like super duper hard.  And sometimes we think…Ah, just a little taste will be okay.

But it’s not.  And when we get lazy—our kids get sick.

The other day, I gave in and my son suffered the horrible consequences because of it.

I hope that my honesty will help you (or your family/friends/teachers/and so forth) understand that there is no such thing as “maybe this is okay” …because little lives depend on us.

Below the photo is the link to my post.  But I will also attach another link to another mom post who had a similar (but because it was peanut reaction—worse) experience like mine.

I ask that you please read both posts—because we need to be reminded, collectively as a village, that food allergies are VERY UNFORTUNATELY real and scary and potentially deadly.

So, please.  Please read and go forth with greater awareness and understanding…and perhaps even a bit more compassion for those of us out there that have to watch every single crumb.  It’s tough and sucks—but our kiddos are worth it.

And we want you to fight this battle with us!

Thank you!


Source: Be aware of prepackaged meats

(please click the above “Be aware of prepackaged meats” for the first article about my son)

Second article:  My laid-back approach almost killed my daughter


Husband for Sale.  Discount today only!


Did you happen to read yesterday’s post about the husband who says too much?  If you didn’t, I hope you’ll go back for a fairly decent laugh.  If you did, then this story, you will see, continues to compliment the ongoing humor in our marriage.  Enjoy!

So, this morning, after not sleeping all night due to two rotating toddlers switching non-sleeping schedules, my husband saw my scar where I had my C-Section.  He then proceeded to say, “Wow!  You can hardly see your scar.”

I looked down at my belly.  He was right.  It’s nearly invisible two years after my 10pound 10ounce baby’s birth.

But Richard—being Richard—didn’t stop there.

“Yeah.  It blends in now with the rest of your belly wrinkles.”

I looked at him and died laughing.  I said, “Oh no you didn’t!  Let me read you what I just wrote!”

And proceeded to read him the blog When Your Husbsnd Says Too Much!

He was, at this point, rolling.

After we all stopped laughing, my husband said, “Well.  Are there any takers?”

Where we began to laugh again.


Yesterday he was For Sale.  Today he is free.

I’ll set him by the curb.

Beware:  He comes with a wicked sense of humor.

Oh.  And he eats a lot.

Come quickly, though, because it is cold outside.

When your husband says too much

My husband just arrived home from Taiwan.  I tried to look cute for his arrival.  I won’t say as cute as possible, because by the time I got my daughter out the door to school, let the dogs out, took care of the morning coal furnace, took a quick shower, and dressed/fed/watered two toddlers, I was already running behind for my hour journey to the airport.  I did my makeup in the car and actually went without coffee because I didn’t even have time for that.  No, the world did not end—in case you were wondering.  I suppose I can live without coffee if I must ;)

And we reach the airport a tad late.  No one’s upset. All happy.  Then we head home.

So exciting.  Lots of cuddling and chatting on the couch.

Then out come the fun selfies.  Yes.  I take selfies.

We, being the parents, were being silly.  Goofy selfies left and right.  Then we did what most do—we scrolled through the results.  That’s when my newly returned husband went from being my sweetheart to my nemesis, for this is the selfie, and then I’ll share what he said…

“Oh my!   How many chins do you have there???”

Really, Richard?  Really?

Needless to say, I have one husband for sale.

Any takers?

Should I Call It Toddler Belly?


Just call me CoalMom!

So, my husband was just out of country for a little over 2 weeks due to an operation on his knee.  I know, I am SuperMom…If SuperMom means letting my children watch way too much television, eat too much fast food, all while I drink WAY TOO MUCH COFFEE!

If that’s the definition of SuperMom, than I was DEFINITELY SuperMom while he was gone.


Anyway, I also had to be CoalMom while he was gone.

If you have been an 2 Makes Crazy reader since I began writing, you’ll remember that I wrote once about the Cleanest Kids in America (if you missed it, click on the highlighted and enjoy, its title is Don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater).  In it, I spoke of the duties of coal-living.

Now, to be very honest, my husband tends to only be out of country 1-3 months out of the year. So, technically, I don’t even see or touch or look at or smell or GO ANYWHERE NEAR the coal all of the other months.

But—on those occasions when he just isn’t STINKING around, I must traverse the dungeon (also known as our super dirty and dark basement) and find my way to the coal room.  And stoke it.  Twice a day.

It’s the epitome of dirty and a lot of really hard work.

But, if I choose not to accept this mission, our coal will burn out and our home will grow cold.  And, WORST OF ALL, we will have NO hot water.

Look…I can live without my husband and kids on occasions but NEVER.  NEVER can I live without 2 things:  Coffee and Hot Water.

I know—I am such a SuperMom ;) (“Smile and wave, boys!  Smile and wave,” Madagascar quote)

And, because I do love my kids (I don’t only love hot water and coffee), I stoke the coal two times a day and keep our home warm and our baths bearable.

THE THING IS (and, yes, all caps were required), stoking coal is a LOT of physical work.

Like lots.

Like lifting 100-200 pounds a day.

I mean, you would think I would be bulging muscles right?!

And, I was truly hoping my baby belly would melt away in the process.

But then I began to think…Am I still allowed to call it a Baby Belly when my baby is now a 2-year-old toddler?

I think not.

So, my friends, I have decided that I no longer have my baby fat to get rid of.  From this moment forward, I’ll be writing posts on how to get rid of my toddler fat.

Okay—not really.  I won’t post away about that.  But I do believe that I must return to reality of the fact that—despite my age (40 in a month, baby!) and the fact that I have 2 toddlers (2 and 3 years of age) under my roof—I will no longer blame my muffin belly on my baby.  Because, in reality, she is toddler.

So, I will blame all of this excess waist (pun intended) on my toddler—and the fact that while the coal gives my arms big guns, it just doesn’t do a stinking thing for that toddler belly o’ mine ;)

Anyway, despite the Toddler Belly, I sure hope that you enjoy the entertaining video of my life…

xoxo b

Oh…And, yes!  Daddy’s back!  Playing Minecraft with #hisgirl, Sweet Adelyne!

daddysgirl and minecraft


When We Forget to Appreciate the Mundane


If you are anything like me (and many of you have already stopped to say a short praise to God that you are NOTHING like me ;) ), you sometimes reach many moments in your life when you forget to be thankful for the mundane.

My husband has been busy getting his knee all operated on…which has left me realizing that there is FAR MORE MUNDANE that he cares for than I sometimes see, realize, but, most of all, appreciate.

We do that, too often.  I say we, but perhaps you are unlike me.  But I do that too often.  I forget to appreciate the mundane.

I forget to appreciate it–which means that I forget to say Thank You.  Thank you, Richard, for taking out the trash.

Thank you, Richard, for helping bathe the kids.

Thank you, Richard, for stoking the coal.

Thank you, Richard, for putting gas in the cars…and helping clean the dishes…and letting me go pee all alone…for changing diapers and helping make snacks.

Thank you, Richard, for helping pick the clothes up off of the floor.

You see—none of the above are exciting.  They are daily tasks that require effort.  Effort that I sometimes take for granted that I share—with my husband.

And I most often do not thank him for being a part of the mundane.

It’s funny—the mundane.  It’s so mundane that we fail to appreciate it—yet it — THE MUNDANE — is what basically makes up our every day of life.

And, therefore, it should be something that we remember.

Perspective on the other foot


Photo by Inga

My near 10-year-old daughter has only lived 18 months of her entire life in the United States, instead growing up in Europe.

Many may find that magical.  Like the lives of Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, and all of the Dwarves!

Birds chirping.

Bells ringing.

Mice cleaning our home (instead of making a mess of it).

It really is different.  Europe.

And, being an American, I sense it.  In my life, as an adult in Europe, I sense it.  Especially as a mom of a child that feels more European than American.

As an outsider to an insider.

And this is what I have come to conclude.

We always look at the lives of others through our eyes and wish…

Wish we had their lives, experiences, and adventures.

And while many look at mine and wish for my experiences, my daughter looks at theirs and wishes the same.

To some, seeing a big and fancy run-down castle in Europe and walking down cobblestone streets is Disneyland!

To my daughter, wild camping in the dessert, wading through rivers, listening to coyotes, making s’mores, and catching fish is Disneyland!

The point is…

Life is very different, no matter where in the world you live.

But the most important thing is this—live it!

And appreciate what it is that surrounds you—because, somewhere, others in the world wish your life was theirs.

Their Disneyland.