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936Pennies Giveaway RedeemThe205

New Giveaway, Delicious Granola, and a Couch Jumping Photo Bomber!

August 4, 2016

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Official Contest Rules and Regulations:

Must be 18 or older and resident of US or Canada to enter. Entrant is entered to win by filling out and submitting subscription form above. Contest is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with, Facebook. Contest closes on Sunday, August 14 at 11:59pm Mountain Time. Winner will be announced on Eryn Lynum’s Author Facebook Page on Monday, August 15. Winner will be contacted for shipping address.

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5 Questions For Setting Screen Time Limits (And When To Toss Those Limits Aside)

August 3, 2016


I knew it the moment I took a step, something was wrong. Very wrong. A second before I had hoisted my right leg over the baby gate, a maneuver I take about five dozen times a day. But this time was different, and now a sharp, piercing pain ran down the right side of my back. I gently lowered myself to the floor, wincing with each slight movement. Tears spilled down my cheeks as I texted my husband. “I cannot move.”

Our weekend packed with plans of hiking and running and exploring would now be spent with me on the couch. Now, normally the thought of three days lazing around, swinging in the hammock, and reading books would sound dreamy. But you see, I have kids. Little ones. I have little kids who need diaper changes, snacks, entertainment, and supervision. Oh, and a toddler who constantly needs to be rescued from the top of the dining room table after he climbs the chairs while I’m not looking.

Bed rest with young kids? Yeah that’s not a thing.


In those moments that I spent flat on my back staring at the ceiling through teary eyes, one of my first thoughts was of our recent decision to scale back on screen time. My mind recited words I had written the week before. Words painting a picture of life’s various seasons, and how those seasons ebb and flow with various needs. There on that floor as I lay waiting for my husband’s rescue, and making a mental note to vacuum that carpet as soon as I could move again, I found myself in one of those seasons with greater need.


 And so over the next few days, I eased up on our newly-established screen time limits. At first, as I lay on the couch with ice pressed against my back, my boy next to me entranced by (another) episode of Bob the Builder, guilt was quick to rush in. I felt as though I was undoing all of our hard work from recent weeks. But that was not at all the case. Instead, after a few days of some extra screen time for the boys, and rest and healing for me, we simply reestablished our screen time boundaries. Just like that. Done and done.


When we started this journey a few weeks ago, I knew that the question would come up. And so I wasn’t at all surprised last week when a reader asked how much screen time we are letting our kids have. Immediately my mind went to a quote from Gary Chapman and Arlene Pellicane’s Book, Growing Up Social (Win a copy below!).

In it they explain, “In terms of how much screen time you allow your child, only you can decide how much is too much.”

I don’t believe that there is a “Screen Time Sweet Spot” that fits every family the same. Not at all. Rather, I believe that the boundaries we set up around screen time for our families are a personal decision, not to be judged by the next family over. It is something we all must take account of and decide for the good of our own family. The good news is that your kids can be a huge help in deciding what that healthy amount of media is for your family.


I find that my children give me subtle hints as to when they’re spending too much time in front of a screen. Their tempers grow shorter, and they develop an entitlement mentality. When I say No, they push back or throw a tantrum. When we’ve been strictly limiting their media use, this is not the case. Rather, they observe TV as a treat, and one that Mom and Dad control, not them.

If you are wondering how much screen time is appropriate for your own family, here are 5 good questions to begin with:

  • “Is technology bringing our family closer together, or driving our family apart?” (Growing Up Social, Chapman and Pellicane)
  • Do my children act as if an hour in front of a screen is a gift, or something they are entitled to?
  • How do my children act when I tell them screen time is over? (If you’re met with tantrums, then consider scaling back. I find that the less time my kids spend with screens, the more OK they are when I turn them off)
  • Have we read books, played outside, or created something before turning on a screen?
  • Is screen time in my mind an occasional help, or a default go-to when I want to keep the kids occupied?


Another quote I found helpful in Growing Up Social was this, “Although each family should use personal judgment on the amount of screen time, every family must set clear boundaries. Children always do better if they have clear boundaries. Screen time requires limits and parameters, or it will take over your child’s free time”.

It takes time, practice, and evaluation to discover a healthy balance of media for our families.  That has certainly been the case in our home. As we continue to evaluate our children’s behaviors and our own hearts, we are gaining a much clearer picture of how much screen time is ok for our family. And then of course, we must keep in mind that there is grace for setting aside those limits for a short time if we could use a little help.


When mom is out of commission with morning sickness, or a new baby is welcomed home, or an adopted sibling arrives and is transitioning to a new home and family…or when mom uses improper form when stepping over a baby gate and throws out her back…there are plenty of examples of when those screen time limits can be set aside.

And then, when the waters calm and we get our feet back under ourselves again, we can set down that remote, and head outside for a picnic. We get back up again, dust ourselves off, and remember what this battle is worth…our kids’ childhoods. We reclaim those childhoods with each hour by wonderful hour that we spend outside, in a book, riding bikes, swimming at the beach, side by side making memories that thread together a legacy of a life well spent!


growingupsocialsWin A Free Copy Of Growing Up Social, Raising Relational Children In A Screen-Driven World

Chapman and Pellicane’s book Growing Up social has played an integral part in my own understanding and practices of how screen time affects a family. In it, they share valuable research and information, complimented by relatable real-life stories, to help a family develop their own practices regarding media in their home. Win your own copy as a part of the #RedeemThe205 campaign!


Official Contest Rules and Regulations:

Must be 18 or older and resident of US or Canada to enter. Entrant is entered to win by filling out and submitting subscription form above. Contest is in no way sponsored, endorsed or administered by, or associated with, Facebook. Contest closes on Sunday, August 14 at 11:59pm Mountain Time. Winner will be announced on Eryn Lynum’s Author Facebook Page on Monday, August 15. Winner will be contacted for shipping address.

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Childhoods Can Be What They Used To Be

July 26, 2016


I spent a fair amount of time watching television as a kid. Yet when I look back, I don’t remember those times. What I remember about my childhood are the hours upon hours that I spent elbow to elbow with my brother and sister while we constructed a Lego city on a 10 X 5 wooden table that my dad made us. I remember swatting mosquitoes from my ankles as we picked bowls of blackberries on the bush outside of my bedroom window. I remember the late-into-the-night neighborhood games of Capture The Flag at the neighbor’s house.


I can picture the old shed that we turned into a clubhouse, holding meetings every week with the neighbor kids. I remember collecting bugs in the field behind our property, and returning home only when mom or dad would ring the large metal bell on our side deck. I remember roller blading all morning, exploring the trails by the pond all afternoon, and bike riding into the evening.

And I get it, even as I write out these memories—things are different now. Childhoods are not what they used to be. Many even say that they can’t be. And of course, this generation faces new threats, and we as parents must be aware and diligent to protect our children from danger.


I get it because I have quite a bit of a “Helicopter Mom” tendency. I had a difficult time letting my son go to camp for the first time this year….and it was only a morning camp; three hours a day. All three of my boys have “Just In Case” bracelets on their wrists with 3 emergency contact numbers. I cut grapes in half, outlaw playing with marbles when the baby is awake, and have a near panic attack if it takes me more than 3 seconds to locate them at the park when I’m doing the headcount. “One….Two……………..…” Yup. Panic attack.


I get the importance of keeping them safe in an uncertain world. It’s important that we are not ignorant of the threats our children face in today’s society. But what if by setting up extensive boundaries, we are cornering them into a box, one filled with “safe” activities such as screen time? In view of the 205 waking weeks on average that a child spends staring at a screen before they turn 18….I think this is one of those threats that we need to be aware of.

I want to protect my kids from the ugly of this world, while inspiring them to venture out to find the beauty in it. That way, when they are older and facing this world without my helicopter mom protection, they’ll have a storehouse of those memories and experiences to pull them through, and onto greater things.


Recounting the memories from my own childhood, I find myself nervous thinking about my own boys doing the same things. Ponds hold deep water, streets have cars, strangers can’t be trusted. But more than fear, I grieve. I grieve the loss of that kind of childhood. And I am determined to give my boys a childhood full of those “Hey, remember when….” adventures, all while knowing that the context may look a bit different now. But it is possible. And so very important.

It might just take a little bit of creativity on our end. What are some of your favorite adventures and memories from your own childhood, and how might they fit into a safe context for your son or daughter now? Perhaps it looks like hosting the Capture The Flag Tournaments in your own yard, or accompanying them on their nature explorations. It might take a little more work and time on your part, but I’ll bet it will also be one of their favorite gifts that you ever give to them–the gift of your time.


I have seen it in these past two weeks, as we’ve refocused our boys’ attentions off the screen, and onto more meaningful activities. At first, the task seemed daunting. With our older boy waking earlier in the mornings, and foregoing any nap time, I had 3 new hours in the day to fill his time. TV had become habit, and it was rubbing up against our family values and creating friction in my spirit. So I started saying No to the TV, and yes to their childhoods. And you know what? It has been So. Much. Easier. than I anticipated!

It ends up that kids want to create. It’s engrained into the fiber of their beings to imagine, explore, and problem solve. They want to be challenged, and to overcome. Their words may speak otherwise at first, but they want to be bored, because boredom often leads to the most grand adventures!


Those adventures might look differently today than they did for us, but they are there and waiting, if only we’ll provide the space, opportunity, and boredom to see them bloom.

So let’s do it. Let’s offer them the opportunity to have a childhood full of fireflies and bonfires and tree climbing and bike riding. Let’s reset our kids’ default back to its natural setting of exploration and wonder. In doing so, we are not pushing them towards something that’s not already a part of who they are. We just might need to help them dig a bit to rediscover it within themselves. It may be a whole lot easier than we think, and it could change their entire future…and the next generation.


This post is part of the #RedeemThe205 campaign, aimed at inspiring families to reclaim the 205 waking weeks on average that a child spends in front of a screen. It’s time to redeem childhoods and protect our families.

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I Told My Son No On His Birthday

July 22, 2016


You asked the question in just the right way. With a “Please”, while looking into my eyes, in a soft, sweet voice. There was no hint of whining or entitlement—just your sweet spirit.

Everything I have taught you about asking nice, you did. And then I looked into those precious blue eyes, and told you No.

For a moment I felt guilty. After all, it was your birthday. And birthdays are usually Yes days. Yes, you can have an extra piece of cake. Yes, we can go to your favorite park. Yes, you can skip rest time to play outside.


But then you asked to watch a show; a simple request on your five-year-old lips. But I had already decided the day before that screens would not be a part of your day. Your day was made for more than that. And I knew in a year from now, you wouldn’t remember the pixels that danced across that screen. So, I said No.

And instead, I watched you create and imagine and problem solve for the next two hours in the back yard. And when your little brother woke up, I watched you work together as a team, dreaming up and constructing Lego sets for hours. I watched you guys strategize, trade pieces, and come to each other’s help when your constructions fell apart. You sat side by side….not in front of a screen, but in front of a world of little boy opportunities.


You see, my sweet boy, as I have been telling you lately when I say No to one of your requests…I had a reason behind my No.

On this big day when you turned from a preschooler to a kid, half a decade out of my womb, I wanted to see your eyes staring into mine. I wanted to be witness to your creativity. I wanted to see you master new heights on the tree in the backyard, and push yourself a bit farther on your new bicycle. I wanted to see you strengthening the ties of your relationships with your brothers, so that your friendship with them will last for years to come.


I wanted to give you the opportunity to practice affection, appreciation, apology, and attention—virtues that the screen does not afford you, but that you will need more and more, with each passing birthday.

I wanted to see your eyes shine, and not from the glow of a screen. I wanted to see you live, really live. With your hands in the mud, and your heart soaring high. With your mind working overtime as you learn, discover, and take in the world around you. The screen only has so much to offer, and it’s nothing that will last.

I wanted your birthday to be made of things that last.


That, my sweet boy, is why I told you No on your birthday.

And you know what? As we danced, and played, and picnicked, and cuddled, and walked along the river together—and as I sat and simply watched you growing up before my eyes—we did it. We slowed time, because we chose to experience it. We chose to make your day really matter. And I, for one, will remember it forever.

So thank you, for your gift to me on your birthday. The gift of your full presence.

And happy birthday, my sweet boy.


This post is part of the #RedeemThe205 campaign, aimed at inspiring families to reclaim the 205 waking weeks on average that a child spends in front of a screen. It’s time to redeem childhoods and protect our families.


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Dear Parents Who Feel Powerless In The Screen Time Battle

July 17, 2016


Dear Parents Who Feel Powerless In The Screen Time Battle,

Let me begin by assuring you that I understand. I get it. Because I am there.

I’m exhausted, you see. This parenting gig is not for the faint of heart. And when you haven’t yet had your cup of coffee, and the dishes are stacked high, and the cat threw up on the carpet, and bills haven’t been paid, and the eggs haven’t been scrambled, and a whole sack of burden weighs heavy on your shoulders….and then they ask to watch TV….or just grab for the remote themselves….there is little fight left within you.

I know.


Let me also say, that because I am right there with you, I will be the first to share that I believe that a bit of screen time has its proper place.

I, like any other parent, know that there is a time and a place for media. Life is full of seasons that ebb and flow with various needs. When a new baby is on the way, or one has just arrived. Or during a move to a new house. Or when a parent is sick. Or when mom needs an hour to regroup and rest. These are all times that I have allowed my kids a little bit extra screen time.


But there is a fine and disastrous line that when crossed, children and families suffer. In today’s world where screens rule and media is here to stay, we as parents must stand guard. We must protect our families. And we must train our children to know that media is a tool, not a master.

I have waded in those waters of guilt. I have allowed the TV to become habit, my default go-to for keeping the kids occupied. I have sighed in exasperation as I clicked “Play” on just one more episode. Or maybe two. Because I just can’t parent anymore today.


And then that nagging guilt settles on my shoulders. The last thing that us parents need is more guilt.

So can I lift that burden, if just for a moment? Can I offer you a little bit of hope?

Parents— we are not powerless in this battle.

We have the final say.

And it may be ugly for a little while. There may be wailing and gnashing of teeth. There may be hard glares and slammed doors. There may be toddler tantrums and teenage….well…tantrums.


But I bet you this:  the storm will roll through and come to pass. And you just might be surprised at how your children adjust to a less screen-saturated routine.

Oh, it will be hard work, and demand hard resolve. You’ll probably fail a time or two. Or ten. You’ll probably go back to old ways, then restart. And restart again.

But each time you make that intentional decision to turn off the screens and claim back power over your kid’s childhood—your family will be better for it.

You see, this screen time battle is not an all-or-nothing matter. Rather, it is a step-by-step journey towards a more fulfilled family, and a more abundant life. It’s a process which there is plenty of grace for.


When we hear that kids, on average, spend 205 waking weeks in front of a screen before they turn eighteen, it is overwhelming. We are up against a beast. Really, we are up against society. And we must be brave enough to do things differently. We must be driven enough to save our families, protect our legacies, and reclaim childhoods.

This is done one hour at a time. One family walk at a time. One game of Monopoly at a time. One tea party at a time. One forest hike at a time. One picnic at a time. One morning on the beach at a time.

One choice at a time.


We’re in this together. So let’s not judge each other. After all, only you can decide how much screen time is appropriate for your family. No one else decides that for you. Instead, let’s cheer each other on, one day at a time, as we walk towards a life that really matters. Let’s collaborate in this mission together.

Let’s schedule more play dates at the park, group hikes, and backyard bonfires. After all, every one of us parents desires for our children to have a bright future; one illuminated not by screens, but by “Hey, remember when….” moments. So let’s create more of those moments together, and redeem those 205 weeks to make them into all they can be. Our families depend on it.


This post is part of the #RedeemThe205 campaign, aimed at inspiring families to reclaim the 205 waking weeks on average that a child spends in front of a screen. It’s time to redeem childhoods and protect our families.

Join The Journey by subscribing below for inspiration, hope, practical ideas, and giveaways. It’s time to #RedeemThe205

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Parents, It Is Time To Redeem The 205

July 15, 2016

We have 936 weeks with our children from when they are born until they turn 18. How we spend each of those weeks will shape their future.

We read the blogs, articles, statists, and research. The numbers are alarming, to say the very least.

Research shows that between nine months old and two years, children spend 912 hours in front of a screen. That’s nearly 5 and a half waking weeks.

From 3 to 7 years old, they spend nearly 37 waking weeks with a digital device.

From 8 to 12 years old, they spend 10,950 hours, that’s 65 waking weeks, staring at a screen.

And then from 13 years old until 18, they spend an additional 98 waking weeks transfixed on a screen.

It all adds up to 205 waking weeks with our children that we are giving away. Rather, that we are throwing away.

The numbers are alarming. Yet reading them, I come time and time again to this one thought:  The last thing any of us parents need is guilt.

Rather, we need hope. And inspiration. And practical ideas for reclaiming this time. We need to know that we are not powerless.

Screens are stealing childhoods. They are robbing us of our legacies. And they are threatening our families. And we are the ones lowering our guard and giving them the upper hand in this battle. But not any more.

As Gary Chapman puts it in his book, Growing Up Social:

“It takes effort to switch from the convenience of screen time to an interactive or tactile activity for a child. But the benefits of your son’s or daughter’s development are well worth it. You will be pleasantly surprised at how quickly your child adjusts to new screen-free routines.”

Inconvenience is a small price to pay when it comes to redeeming childhoods and protecting families. I’d say a few temper tantrums or meltdowns is well worth the victory in this battle.

Join my family in coming weeks as we share practical ideas through our own stories and video blogs, as well as giveaways, to help spread hope and inspiration for reclaiming the 205 weeks before they are gone.

It’s not too late. Are you ready? It’s time to #RedeemThe205

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When We Glimpse Just How Fragile Life Is

June 15, 2016


I decorated our boys’ room today. They eagerly watched from their new bunk bed as I penned small marks on the wall and pounded in tiny nails. “Thank you for celebrating our room, Mom!” My oldest exclaimed. It will be a sad day for me when he starts correctly using “decorate” over “celebrate”. I kind of adore that he loves to “celebrate” our house.

As I hung up paintings of mountains and bears with the words, “Be brave, little one”, my heart was grieving.

I try to avoid the news. It’s not that I want to be unaware of what’s going on in the world, it’s just that I have an issue with fear. I’m quick to let it grip me, suffocate me, and pull me under.

I think most moms are. We just have so much to lose.


But this week the news has been unavoidable. And as I stretched the measuring tape from nail to nail and hung copper stars on my boys’ wall, I mourned for mamas I do not know.

For 49 mamas shedding endless tears over their babies who were taken from them in an unthinkable act of evil.

And as we all sit in our own homes, grateful it wasn’t us and praying for those it was, I hear news of another Mama. One in the very same city where those 49 were taken. And I read of her own son—only two years old—snatched by an alligator while he dipped his toes into the water at the lagoon’s edge. I read of his Daddy, in brave instinct launching into the water and grabbing the animal, desperately trying to wrangle his helpless boy from the beast’s mouth.

The father lost.

And my heart pounds in my chest as I think of the scene.


They were on vacation. And I think of the mother who will board an airplane to go home, her whole being aching at the empty seat beside her.

I push a curtain rod through a bright blue curtain and hang it over my boys’ window. I picture that mother setting her suitcase down at the front door, walking into his bedroom, and glancing at the pictures hung. The toys still strewn about. The little bed empty.

We read these stories and we weep. We weep for those lost and for those who loved them. And then we weep because our eyes have been brutally opened to just how fragile life is. And it terrifies us.


This week I have had a difficult time focusing. Several times just to clear my mind of the sadness saturating the news, I’ve set aside responsibilities and taken a walk with my boys. I watch them just to watch them. I notice what they stop to notice. A flower blooming among the tall grass. A leaf bug jumping among the pebbles. How the arch of the branches over our path forms a fort. I watch them because I can. Because they are here.

It is events like this week’s that give us a crude reminder of just how fragile life is. It is taken by evil as well as by chance. So much of it is completely out of our control. I write about these 936 weeks that we have with our children. But the difficult truth is this:  we are never guaranteed those 936 weeks.


All we have for certain is today. We have today to linger longer in that embrace. To kiss that pudgy little cheek one more time before bed. To sit with her and string beads on a string. To help him construct that new lego set. To help her with the math problem she’s been struggling with, or to take her mind off of it with a trip to the ice cream shop.

We have today to speak truth over them. To tell them how brave and beautiful and wonderful they are.

We have today to set down the to-do list, turn off the cell phone, and take a walk together.

When we get to tomorrow, if the one who holds our heart is not there with us, what would we wish we had done with them today?


May we not allow fear to steal today away from us, for today is all we have for certain. Let us use what we have right now, this rotation of the earth, to “Look carefully then how you walk, not as unwise but as wise, making the best use of the time.” (Ephesians 5:15-16Today is our gift, to enjoy and to give. It is too short for regret and too precious for fear. 

Whatever tomorrow brings, may it find us grateful that today we chose to hold hands a little longer, to read a book together under a big shaded tree, to lie in the grass next to our loved one and stare up at the clouds as they give way to the stars.

This week as you grieve for those grieving and say prayers for strangers, the stories and blog posts and media coverage will fade. But let us not forget the way it has opened our eyes. Let us not forget how it made our hearts suffocate when we thought of our own loved ones there one moment and gone the next. May we stop waiting on tomorrow to live for what really matters most. Let us not forget that today is all we have for certain, and live every little bit of it full of gratitude and awe for the gift that it is.

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Story Stones – A Fun And Creative Way To Teach Your Kids The Art Of Storytelling!

May 19, 2016

“Zeke, if you could have any animal in the world as your pet, what would you have?”

My four-year-old boy thought for a moment, contemplating his vast options.

“A lion.” I could tell in his voice, he was sure. But then he added, “A nice lion. One that hugs people. But lions are big, Mom, so he would have to live in a really big container.”


This boy and his imagination. More and more as his world grows, so does his ability to fabricate whole worlds within his mind. Without the framework of reality stifling his ideas, his inventiveness catches me off guard, brings a smile to my lips, and laughter to my eyes every single day.

Yet there is one area of his imagination where he’s been struggling.

Often while we’re riding in the car he asks me, “Mom, can you tell me a story?” Sometimes he asks specifics; make it about a lion, or a monkey. I make up some tale, trying my best to conjure up some kind of plot. Upon ,”Then end,” there is always a request for another story. Thinking up these things is exhausting.

Lately, when he asks for a second story, I have been encouraging him to make up a story for me instead. This is when his voice softens to a whisper as he replies, “I don’t know how.” I can hear the confidence slipping away from my boy.


We all know that reading is important for a child; that it holds endless benefits for their development and knowledge. Yet I think that one area that is often neglected is this learned art of storytelling.

I can still recall stories that my parents told me when I was very young. Twenty years later, I can still see the zoo of stuffed animals towered high on each side of my little body. My dad sitting on the edge of my bed, telling me a tale of a family of bears off on a birthday picnic adventure. It’s a story I think upon when we take our boys out for their birthday picnics.

Stories hold power. They can last a lifetime. I want my boys to experience this incredible piece of life.


That is why I love this idea I came across last week for making Story Stones. My boys and I made a whole day of creating these fun story prompts; picking out stones at the river, choosing stickers at the craft shop, and working as a team to create our Story Stones.

As soon as they were dry, my boys needed no prompting or instruction. They set right to work creating whimsical, hilarious tales, and I sat back completely amazed at their new storytelling abilities. It ends up, all they needed were some ideas and characters right in their hands– a plot that they could visualize-– to set them on a path that will surely lead to incredible stories throughout their lifetime.

If you haven’t already, check out the video we made at the beginning of this post, telling a story of its own on how we created our Story Stones. Below are some detailed instructions and tips for making your own Story Stones. And don’t forget to check back when you’re done, and post on my Facebook Page how your Story Stones turned out, and the stories your kids are creating with them!


How To Create Your Own Story Stones

What you will need:

  • Smooth, flat, stones
  • Stickers likable to story telling (We used camping stickers, animals from the woods, farm animals, family stickers, trucks, and fish)
  • Mod Podge glue
  • Thick paintbrush


  1. Place one sticker on each stone. Make sure the sticker is completely adhered to the stone, with no edges sticking up.
  2. Coat the whole side of the stone (with the sticker on it) in Mod Podge glue.
  3. Wait for the glue to (mostly) dry, then re-coat. Apply 5-6 coats total
  4. Start telling stories!


We used scrapbooking stickers form Hobby Lobby. If you wait until they have a sticker sale (usually half off), and use the coupon on their website for 40% off the Mod Podge glue, you could do this very cheaply.

I read on this post that kids also enjoy using Story Stones for sorting, role play, Doll House characters, etc. My 3 year old was using the Truck Story Stones he made and “rolling” them around roll playing, just like he does with his Matchbox Cars!

Don’t forget to tell us how they turned out on my Facebook page!

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3 Places I Never Expected to Find the Beauty of Motherhood

May 13, 2016


There was this image that I had of motherhood.

Delicate sunlight cascading down through a window, casting soft shadows across the bedroom. The bed is a brilliant white; adorned in a plush down comforter and feather filled pillows. I lay on my stomach, perched up on my elbows, staring down at my infant son. He is all smiles as he gazes back up into my eyes. I take in his freshly bathed scent of lavender soap and oatmeal lotion as he happily babbles to me about his day.

Of course, this was before I actually became a mother, and realized that parents never buy white bedding sets. For oh so many reasons.


It’s not that I romanticized the idea of motherhood. I knew there would be dirty diapers and spit up and skinned knees and sleepless nights.

But there is so much of motherhood that cannot be understood until you are in the thick of it. 

There are so many surprises.

In her book Surprised By Motherhood, author Lisa-Jo Baker writes about “Everything I never expected about being a mom.”

I think that many of us arrive at the threshold of motherhood with a whole lot of expectations. And yet, I’ve come to discover in my short almost-five-years of experience, that the beauty of motherhood often lurks in the most unassuming places.


First, I never expected to find the beauty of motherhood among the messy imperfections.

For instance, that soft downy comforter, lavender soap, and freshly bathed baby that I used to imagine? Reality looks a lot more like me curled up on a couch that’s covered in Cheerio dust, napping next to my infant boy in his footie pajamas he’s been wearing for two days; his nose all chapped and runny from days of fighting a cold.

And you know what?

It is lovely, this true image of the breathtaking mess that motherhood actually is. Just how magnificent it is in all of its raw, unfiltered, rough-edged truth.

Even on my family’s best days, when we’re up in the mountains, tossing rocks in the river, and watching a herd of elk grazing in a nearby meadow—someone is bound to be whining about something. Or we run out of snacks (which is a very, very big deal with 3 boys…) Or someone is cold. We can surround ourselves with the most perfect setting, and still “perfect” eludes us every time.

Motherhood has a beautiful way of teaching us that “It is what it is”, so we had better enjoy it to the fullest for what it is! That is where beauty unfolds.


Secondly, I never expected to find the beauty of motherhood in the mundane nature of our day-to-day.

Among the piles of dirty dishes and laundry, in the pool of spilled juice, in the splatters of water paint and the rainbow orbs of bubbles dancing through the backyard–this day-to-day humdrum is where I stumbled upon the extraordinary.

Lisa-Jo calls it the “Sacred marriage of the mundane and the eternal.” She says it is, “The small directly related to the massive; kids walking around like so much eternity with skin on.”

And it’s in words like these that I see it– the magnificent beauty of spreading peanut butter on bread, teaching the difference between consonants and vowels, scrubbing out sippy cups, and stopping to answer one million and one questions throughout our day.

These little things, they are huge. They matter. I never could have imagined just how much.


Lastly, I never expected to find the beauty of motherhood in how ridiculously hard it is.

As Lisa-Jo puts it in her book, “Mothers may want to find room to breathe, to weep, to panic. But they don’t want it to end—this delivering, shaping, cheering, loving, bringing life into the world.”

After a long day of motherhood, this “room to breathe” is exactly what I long for. I often find it in bubble bath at the end of the night. The other night was no different—except that the baby was crying from his crib in the next room over.

I crept through his door, and lifted him out of the crib and into my arms. I took off his pajamas, unstrapped his diaper, and plopped him down into my bubble bath. And there we sat together, playing in mountains of white bubbles, lavender wafting through the air, French music playing softly, him looking up at me to smile every few moments.

After another long day of navigating my little people through life, I just wanted some rest. Some quite. Some alone. But him there, all joy with bubbles dancing atop his blonde curls, was the reminder I needed of why all the hard is worth every single moment. Every single tear. Every single exhausted morning. It’s worth every hard thing.


Motherhood reveals the very worst of me. And that, I believe, is what is also unearthing the very best in me. Sometimes it takes coming face to face with your deepest fears, your shocking selfishness, and who you are at your very weakest in order to discover where true beauty finds space to grow.

I asked on Facebook this week, “What has surprised you most about motherhood?” I loved Gretchen’s answer. She said, “It’s a daily dose of the Gospel. How God uses it to refine me. How the trials that he brings me through with my kids are as much a learning process for me and my own sinfulness and need for a Heavenly Father to guide, protect and love me. Every time I lecture my kids, God’s tapping my shoulder and saying… ‘Sound familiar?’”

Surprising beauty, right there.


The truth is, this job is very, very, very hard.

It is demanding and exhausting and confusing and incredibly emotional.

But that is exactly where the beauty is found. In the hard stuff. And in the big grace that makes the hard stuff into the holy stuff.

To all the Mamas out there taking joy in the imperfect mess, loving hard in the middle of the mundane, and learning who they are in the very hard stuff—this is exactly where the beauty of motherhood is found. So never stop looking for it.

You can purchase Surprised By Motherhood here 


{Note:  I am not receiving any compensation for this endorsement. I have greatly benefited from Lisa-Jo Baker’s book, and believe that many others can also.}


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