Once upon a time there was a girl named Ivy. She tried hard to be good and kind and strong and smart. Sometimes she succeeded, and sometimes she failed. She had a blessed life but still wrestled with her demons because that is the human condition. She learned to cook so she could feed herself and the people around her. She especially liked making pies.

The girl grew up and found love. She got two deep wrinkles between her eyebrows. She birthed two children at home. She tried to find the balance between being a no sugar, no TV kind of parent and being a blue raspberry Slurpee and Spongebob kind of parent. She felt socially awkward much of the time.

She cooked, she mothered, she wifed. She sometimes screamed curse words silently to herself in the mirror. She longed for Italy. She ate large helpings of dinner. She wondered what it would be like to face the world without makeup on. She rubbed the soft, round belly of her little one. Her life was still blessed.


Update, May 4th, 2017:

Life is funny. When I started this blog I thought it would be primarily about cooking and eating, with maybe a little about parenting thrown in. But it has evolved. I have evolved. And though I do feel I owe you a post now and again about something delicious, I’m deciding to be okay with whatever direction my writing takes me in, and if I want to have a blog called Baby Loves Butter that hardly ever talks about babies or butter, that’s my prerogative, right?

I strive to be authentic in my writing and in my existence. We are complex creatures all struggling in our own ways. If we can reach out a hand, even a shaky one, to help each other through the mucky parts of life then we are doing our most important job. So, here, please, come in to my space, dusty and cluttered though it may be, and sit with me. Let’s be humans together.



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