Guest Blogger: She Likes Purple – More Than You

I just had a baby! While I am out on maternity leave for a few weeks or so, I have begged some of the bloggers that I stalk most admire to contribute guest posts to this space so it won’t be lonely. The posts are so awesome that I am afraid you won’t want me back.

The goal of these guests posts is to bring new and different insights to this space. Viewpoints that I am unfamiliar with, advice from those who have been where I have not been, and ideas that might seem foreign to myself and my readers but are important to consider.

Today’s guest blogger is Jennie from She Likes Purple. I met Jennie some time in late 2009, I believe, at a DFW blogger meetup (maybe the one at Village Tea?). Jennie also runs the blogs Style Lush and Food Lush, so check them out!

I just want to say that I personally LOVE this post because it just so perfectly describes how we feel about our little boys…


“Kisses!” You lean in, with a slobbery, open-mouthed smile. “Thank you, buds!” You grin like it’s your job every time I thank you for something.

Whenever I open the backseat door to get you out of your carseat, I call out, “Hiiiiiii!” and you wave, with just your hand now instead of your whole arm. “Hiiiiiii, buds!” And you grin.

Each morning I go in to greet you, and you hand me something from your crib. A pacifier, rogue bottle, Mr. Pup. It’s your way of saying, We’re ready to get out now. “Morning, buds!” I say, and you grin.

You love to walk, but insist on holding both my hands, so the other day I tried to coax you into a few steps just hanging onto one hand. I kept saying, “You can do it, buds! You can do it!” And you tried, a couple steps, grinning like a fool. Then we danced around the room together, celebrating.

You sit in your high chair while I bake. You grin when I turn on the mixer and you grin when I give you a taste of the red velvet bars and you grin when I say “uh-oh!” whenever I miss a step in the recipe. Sometimes I catch you throwing Molly food, and I say, “No, buds, YOU eat!” And you always take the next bite, grinning to bide your time until I turn around so you can toss her more.

You grin whenever she walks in the room.

I used to fear this life, this suburban mortgage and white fence and a baby on my hip. I want more, I used to think. I wanted Spain and novels and wild loves and adventures.

I met your dad and instantly wanted you.

I know so many people who pity this ordinary life, and even I feel that way when the barf and exhaustion reign supreme. I can’t quite compare it to those past-life wants since I’ve not yet made it to Spain and I’ve not yet written a word of that novel, but I was a fool back then for thinking there was more to want than you.

I still want more. I still want to go to Spain and write and have wild adventures with your dad and throw fantastic parties and nap again one day, too. I want so much, it’s true. I hope I’ll always want more.

But wanting more than this, more than that goofy, full-hearted grin, more than you?

No, buds, there’s nothing more than you.

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