With Valentine’s ’round the corner, I’ve been crossing my fingers that K doesn’t want a Pinteresty-type Valentine asking K what type of Valentine she wants to make this year. Make? That word alone tells me I’m headed down a slippery slope.



Raynes’ teacher has asked the parents to let the kids write their own names this year. Notice I have his name in parentheses. Just in case.



4 years ago today…

Wednesday night I looked around our house and saw not one thing Love/Heart/Pink/Valentine-y. No wreath, no nothin’. We’re anti-Valentines over here in the Robinson house. I pulled out my scrap fabric box, plugged in my hot glue gun, found my ‘good’ scissors (aka not that one’s I clip Poochie’s feet with… and perhaps my bangs too) and got to searching on the iPad.



Slightly home-made looking on its pathetic raffia ribbon, but a quick touch of love nonetheless.



Remember these Valentines (from 2011)?



Well, one of the fringe benefits of (returning to) a new school, is you can recycle Valentine’s themes (for more than 1 child)!


Prepping for 2015


Kenley Valentine 2015

Sunday morning it was all feet on deck as big sisters helped little brother with his valentines.


Our boys likes to craft– who knew?


This is the look I get after 697 times a day after asking “why Mommy?”





The school’s Father Daughter Dance was Friday night– while B has “aged out” by entering middle school, Kenley was able to claim her Daddy all to herself.


When I think about Kenley only has two more Daddy Daughter Lower School dances (then she will be too old) it sort of makes me catch my breath. How did this happen? When did this happen?And so thankful that while my children are growing each and every day, we still have a little guy that has 15+ years of school (and living at home) still to go.  For as much sarcasm and complaining I make, the truth of the matter is I can’t imagine our house without their mess, noise, fights and chaos.  Because then it would be just Mr. R and I sitting at home on Friday nights just looking at one another. And what are we suppose to do with that extra time? Start sewing again, go to a movie before it hits Red Box, or dabble in photography?  Now hold a second, suddenly that doesn’t seem so bad either.


Until then, you kids better grow slow for this too young to be this old Mama.