September 9, 2019

I plopped irritation puffing in a small cloud—then settling back down around me. I told myself I was “regrouping” but truthfully...I was just letting in all the prickly feelings. It wasn’t anything. Really. A day that wasn’t well planned, toys all over the place, no one liked dinner. Again.... 

I defaulted...

March 17, 2019

"My Mommy doesn't have cancer."

We were two-thirds into our Inheritance of Hope Kendra Scott Legacy Retreat. This retreat was exclusively for families with children who have a parent with metastatic breast cancer. 

Each morning we were divided into small groups, the kids by age. In front of London and Quinn were a coupl...

June 24, 2018

143 trips.

28,600 miles.

572 hours spent in the car.

It's about a hundred miles...a two hour drive...from the Pink Door House in Moses Lake to Spokane. Give or take, depending on what part of town you're landing at. And in the last three and a half years, this little family has made approximately 143 of those trips for Inflamm...

April 9, 2018

Everything is great.

So Great.

Counting All the Blessings. All the time.

These are just a few of the lies I tell as a cancer survivor. And that's not to say that things aren't often great. But just like anyone else, there are some days I'd rather slap the return label on it and ship the whole thing back to Amazon HQ...amI...

January 4, 2018

Does this angle make my wounds look open to you? 

I'm looking in the bathroom mirror after my shower. The eucalyptus scented vapors are dissipating.

Eucalyptus, because the jury is still out on the relationship between lavender and estrogen and hormone positive breast cancers....

The adhesive used on my port site last week cau...

January 2, 2018

I couldn't talk Quinn into wearing pants with her tunic (it's not a dress, Quinn). 

Or talk Eli out of wearing his sister's camisole as a shirt. 

I thought all day about straightening the house. Because Christmas. And clutter. And *so* distracting. But ultimately I knew if I did, there would be nothing left of me by...

December 10, 2017

These are the magic-making years.

The Santa years.

They squeal with delight and even a little fear when you lift them to touch the star on top of the tree.

They look at the Nativity with wonder and a little mystery. 

Every morning they beg to hear the message on Santa's Hotline.....the red phone with it's tinny, too-loud Elf vo...

December 7, 2017

Picture this: I was twelve years old. My crafty self had recently discovered Sculpey (a bright-colored modeling clay that can be baked to harden)...and everyone I loved needed a handmade ornament that Christmas. I can't tell you how many hours I spent pinching and moulding little moose with Santa hats and angels with clumsy...

November 6, 2017

Today I shared one of My Own Things, my yoga practice, with our three kids.

That is, I tried.

The O2 Studio (where I practice) offered a free, all ages class to celebrate their second anniversary. Eli has been attending preschool yoga there, and was like a little rooster proudly showing off the studio to his girls. They've be...

October 28, 2017

It always starts innocently enough.

Eli was slowly pouring milk into his bowl (the red plastic one, per his request) to cool his tomato soup. His grilled cheese was on the stove, my spaghetti squash reheating in the oven.

There was a rare knock on the door. Landscaping company...winterize the sprinklers...check and check. I w...

Please reload

Follow Us
Email Us
  • Instagram Social Icon
  • Facebook Social Icon
  • YouTube Social  Icon
  • Twitter Social Icon
  • Snapchat Social Icon

© 2016 by Pink Door House. Proudly created with