Baby Bud in a back carry. He’s about 10 months old here.

I’m a former non-profit executive director turned stay-at-home mom. I enjoy fitness and outdoorsy activities, warm temperatures, traveling to warm places, my morning (and mid-day, and afternoon) coffee, and a bit of crunchiness (like babywearing and cloth diapering). I live on a farm in rural Illinois with a three year old boy, my husband, our blue heeler, Otto, and one kid on the way. I break up the constantness of full-time parenting by volunteering as a child advocate for my county’s CASA (Court Appointed Special Advocates) program and by serving on the board of directors of a local community chorus. I stink at cooking (though I do try) and am usually in my pajamas past noon, but overall I’m a “pretty good” mom and “wif” (as my husband affectionally refers to me) and wouldn’t change my life for anything. So, why am I a wife without the “e”? It’s not all that exciting, but has stuck. Years ago, on one of the online farm forums my husband reads, a guy wrote a post complaining about his “wif” and his “damm dog.” The redneck-y mispelling amused us enough that we started using it out loud whenever I was, shall we say, lacking. We already joked that I’m “pretty good” at this domestic stuff. String the terms together and I have a unique blog title that doesn’t describe anything I do or like, but does allow plenty of room for improvement!


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