The Swimsuit That’s Good For the Goose…

Is good for the gander.

I was still dripping as I returned from the pool party I’d been chaperoning.  My hungry little six year old was also making wet footprints across the kitchen floor as she munched on an apple and peeled the layers from her body.  Hearing we were back, I heard the familiar steps of our 15 year old.  I’d recently marveled at the revelation that I could actually hear, in the footsteps, which child was coming up the stairs.  Must be a mom thing.  (Now I know how she did it all those years…well, not necessarily ‘how’ but that she could actually know.)

I could tell by the look on her face she was agitated.  My sweet Type A firstborn, whom I’m almost certain will try to graduate from high school early so she can just get it over with, needed my advice.  We walked into my room and she shut the door.

“Mom.  I can’t go.”  She told me.  “I just can’t.”

“Why not?” I asked.

“I don’t have a swimsuit.” She replied.

The one she was wearing horrified her and she’d already tried on two of mine.  Next came the soaking wet one now resting in my bathroom sink.  They were all a bit..too…vavavoomy.  I gave up long ago on even pretending people didn’t notice that I am what my parents called ‘well endowed’.  After nursing six kids and the inflating/deflating that comes with it, my swimsuits can tell stories.  Stories the poor fifteen year old who was desperate enough to try on an oversized, cold and wet one has no inkling of yet.  Needless to say, that too, was a ‘No-Go’.

She was practically in despair.  I asked her ‘why’.  Her response, ‘I don’t know.’

‘Honey.’ I told her.  ‘You are so so lovely.  What is it about you that makes you so nervous?’

It took some pauses and some thinking but she finally admitted a couple of her physical insecurities and there is no way I’m revealing those for the blogging world to see.  Suffice it to say, they just made me sad.

This amazing little girl of mine, who always seems to have it together, who loves people and socializing, who loves her friends and the adults she would be spending the evening with was about to make the mistake of staying home.  Not because she had other priorities.  Not because there was some sort of assignment keeping her here.  But because somehow, someway, those nasty little voices have crept in somehow and crushed the confidence I’ve come to greatly admire in her.

Our conversation ended with the usual reassurances and in my haste to meet the needs of the others, figured we were done.  She would be insecure but she’d find some sort of golden nugget in my lazy wisdom and head over to the party.

Except, not really.  No.  It didn’t help.  The next time I found her, she was curled up in a ball, under a blanket reading a book.  This was not the comfy sort of ball my girl gets into while sinking her teeth into a new book.  This was the sort of ball that comes from debilitating hurt.  The kind where she is shutting out the world.

It was a little frightening.  This sort of retreat has been happening more and more in the last few weeks since we told the kids we’re moving.  In the chaos of it all, I hadn’t noticed until now.  She didn’t need the ‘Don’t worry, you’re so lovely’ lecture.  She needed something more reaffirming.  Something real.

Within a few minutes, a secret friend was at my back door, armed with about a dozen swimsuits, responding to a desperate phone call.  She handed them to me quietly then slipped away.  I don’t know how, but somehow I knew, this would be a temporary fix.  I returned to Sunshine’s bedroom and the blanketed lump on her bed, playfully launching the swimsuits upon her.  She instantly perked up as I left.  It was kind of an opposite-evil-stepmother moment and it was very satisfying.

A few moments later, she emerged from her room triumphantly dressed in a red swimsuit that made her waist look tiny.  She still wore shorts that clashed a little but at least I got her in a suit.  And with that, she was ready to go out and have some fun.  Just like that, I stifled those nasty little voices screaming vulgarities at my daughter.  If I could’ve, I’d take an invisible machete and hack them all to pieces.  But I couldn’t.  I knew they’d be back.  And they’ll come back with a vengeance.  They always do.

Tonight, I’ve been sitting on my couch reflecting upon this.  Wondering how I’m going to neutralize those voices the next time they sneak in.  Everyone is asleep and my head is clear.  It’s at this moment I see the events of today with even more frightening clarity.

Sunshine and I both went to pool parties today.  I had encouraged her not to be ashamed of her body.  I assured her there was absolutely no reason for her to be self-conscious.  I reminded her she’d be among friends who love her and would never scrutinize her for her clothing.

Then there was me.   At the party I went to, I wore a short summer dress the entire time…even when I was in the water.  My friends encouraged me to take the dress off but I refused.  I was scared.  But I don’t know of what.  It’s not like the people I was with had any interest in critiquing how I look in a bathing suit after squeezing six human beings from my body.

It’s in the darkness of my living room, listening to the distant sound of someone sawing some serious logs, that I realize what a hypocritical chicken I really am.  My 15 year old is much braver than I’ve ever been.  At least she had the courage to face her fears and get in that blasted swimsuit.  My lousy excuse was that I didn’t want to run the risk of traumatizing small children.  That’s so dumb really.

If I want to stop those ugly voices, I’ve got to block the gaping hole their coming in through.  I try to eat right and exercise every day.  When did that stop being enough?  If I’m perfectly honest with myself, it never was enough.  How am I ever going to convince my daughters their sincere efforts are enough if I’m not sure they are myself?

I’m running out of time.  Sunshine’s going to be on her own in a few very short years.  While yes, this is somewhat about me, this is no longer about me.  It’s about her.  It’s about them.  I have some changes to make to help them avoid some of the pitfalls I fell into.  In other words, it’s time to wear the swimsuit.



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I’m Not Okay But It’s Okay…


When He-Man and I were first married, I remember freaking out anytime we were expecting company.  Everything down to the throw pillows on our couch had to be perfectly placed.  Heaven forbid anyone think I wasn’t perfect at my chosen role of homemaker.  I’m sad to say, that thinking, the desire to create the perception of the perfect life, has followed me for much longer than I care to admit.

The past few months have pretty much beaten this particular tendency out of me.  Sometimes growth is difficult.  Sometimes it seems nearly impossible.  And then there are moments when it becomes clear you’re making progress.  Tonight, armed with a bowl of ice cream topped with Snickers bar pieces, I’m showing how far I’ve come because I’m about to say it…

It has been a very unperfect, extremely difficult, intense summer.

Like, a crying-curled-up-in-your-bed-covered-with-blankets sort of hard summer.  I’ve learned that sometimes those worries you hope will be resolved after a ‘good cry’ don’t actually resolve and hoping for a quick fix only makes you ever more devastated because it doesn’t come.

A week into summer, we received pretty devastating financial news both on a personal and professional level.  I wracked my brain for days wondering what we could have done differently to protect ourselves.  We were warned about this in the last semester of grad-school.  They told us, “Don’t plan for your business to be in the black within two years of starting out”.  You’d just be setting yourself up for crushing disappointment.  I’m a dreamer though so naturally I dreamed we’d be different somehow.  We’re not.

While it doesn’t change anything, there is a peace that comes from knowing you’ve behaved with integrity and don’t need to question your own conduct.  It still hurts to know there are entities out there that are evil.  Perhaps the people employed by these are not but they are set up to intentionally screw over individuals they perceive as a threat to their bottom line.  They can be especially destructive to small business owners.  And those businesses in the medical field often times are faced with multiple factions dealing what could potentially be death-blows to their businesses.  Unfortunately, we’ve had to deal with several in the past few months.

In the middle of this, He-Man has been offered the proverbial carrot-on-a-stick.  He is one of the final candidates for two different career prospects he’s spent his life working for.  But progess is slow and we’d be fools to plan for something that hasn’t been promised to us.  The evening after he received news of this, our landlord sent us an email informing us of his decision to sell our home.  It’s time.  The market is right and this could be one of the best financial moves he’s ever made.  He very generously gave us the option of ‘first refusal’.

After a year of yanking weeds, trimming neglected rose bushes, clearing out and creating a spice garden, home improvement projects and various little upgrades our budget could support, we were given the option to purchase the home we were already planning to make permanent.

And then, that plan fell through.  Not because anyone did anything wrong.  It just turned out not to be the right choice.  For this reason, I’m writing surrounded by dozens of cardboard boxes.

Life is SO not perfect right now and I’ve lost the energy to pretend that it is.

But here is the amazing thing I’ve just learned.  Things feel like they’re falling apart and it is okay that I’m not okay.  No one is expecting me to be.  (And the universe didn’t just implode.)

While I will continue to stand by the idea that life doesn’t suck…Okay, so maybe it sucks a little right now… THIS.  IS.  HARD.  I’m tired both mentally and physically.  So is He-Man.  I’m heartbroken that we’re this far into our adult lives and dealing with this situation.


There’ve been moments, almost every day this summer, when I’ve either wanted to scream, cry or curl up in a corner and disappear.

But then comes the ‘But’.

For any optimist fighting for the ability to look on the bright side, there comes a moment.  After the mascara is smeared and dried, the tissues have all been used up and there’s no more tears or snot left, the clarity comes.

This summer has not been all bad…download_20160725_204255

We just became lifelong friends with a lovely girl from France and her amazing family.  The entire month of July was an adventure.  In fact, it saved the summer and gave us something, someone else to focus our energy on.


We planted a garden.  We have tomatoes, cucumbers and zucchini coming out of our ears.  We even grew potatoes.  And peppers.  And a cabbage.  Plus some freaky looking melon that may or may not give our kids worms.


We have family and friends who love us.

Case in point:  I have this best friend.  She also happens to be my sister-in-law.  We joined the family within 3 months of each other and have been each other’s favorite ever since.  She’s awesome.  She has this amazing super power of telling me exactly what I need to hear at the same time making me feel ridiculously loved and adored.  She celebrates all of our victories and will hold me while I cry.  She also loves He-Man.  She knows us both better than just about anyone other than our mommas.  She knows both of our M.O.s when we get stressed out.  She knows He-Man turns on auto-pilot and becomes a machine.  She also knows I cry.  A lot.  And get really, really mad at my adoring husband who, in his autobot state, is not very snuggly.

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Hubba, hubba

Once this summer I was particularly miffed at him.  After it all, I can’t even remember why and He-Man is smart enough not to bring up the possibility that hormones could have been even remotely involved.  But whatever the reason, the fact that he could sleep peacefully while I was SO MAD made me want to tie him down and pluck every single stupid hair from his eyebrows just to see his eyes water.  I slept on the couch for two days.

Then comes the amazing part…my best friend, Wonder Woman, who’s known about everything from the ‘Summer of Suck’ appeared out of nowhere.  She came baring the best gifts a girl could ask for:  cheese and flowers.

Yes, my bff knows me so well she knows that next to chocolate, Havarti Dill is the best way to bring cheer to my heart.  And the flowers?  They were from He-Man.  FOR REAL…Even after I was secretly plotting to temporarily disfigure his face.  Apparently, he had performed a physician’s exam for one of her children trying out for sports earlier in the year.  Instead of receiving payment, he requested she randomly bring me flowers sometime.IMG_7214

And so she did.  They came with the admonition, “When your husband is doing his very best Mr. Spock impression and you want to punch him in the throat, just remember, he’s always thinking of you.  Everything he does is for you because he loves you that much”

This kind of revelation turns things around.  I could have had a bff who’d let me complain about my very most favorite person in the whole wide world.  Instead, she helps me remember why he’s earned that title.

Life can’t suck that badly when you have that kind of person in your life…and when Havarti Dill is sitting in your refrigerator.


I was also reminded of something else.  I had a private IMG_7254
conversation with a dear friend.  He’s battled debilitating depression several times in his life.  I had just posted a mission statement of sorts on Facebook.  It said, “Be so happy that when others look at you, they become happy too”.  He quietly reminded me that sometimes, it’s okay not to be happy.  Sometimes, you’re not okay and it’s okay.  Sometimes, ‘white knuckling it’ through has to be good enough.

The thing about it is, we perpetually happy people always find a way to be chipper and cheerful again.  We will vomit our rays of sunshine and sing along with the early morning birds.  People will want to trip us as we skip down the street and draw moustaches on our perma-smiles.  But with the challenges our family has faced this summer, I’ve been reminded of important lessons about compassion and being sensitive to those who hurt, who feel pain every single day.  This kind of summer has reminded me that for some, life, as a rule, generally sucks.  Crying under the covers is a regular occurrence, always.  And those bouts of extreme sadness and disappointment don’t just go away.  To have a glimmer of that daily struggle means we might be able to find a way to sincerely and meaningfully help somehow.

Pretending everything is perfect, especially when it’s not, just makes some wonder what is so wrong with them that this sort of eternal sunshine eludes them.  I’m not saying it’s inappropriate to be happy and to share that happy with others.  It absolutely is the right thing to do.  Just be real and honest and admit it when you’re having a hard time.

So, yes, I’m having a hard time BUT come to think of it, this summer hasn’t been a complete wash.  It hasn’t been perfect, not even remotely, and I’m finding myself desperately seeking a reprieve from all of it.  But there’s been so much good too.  Looking back on it I bet I’ll be grateful for all of it…eventually.  I guess, ‘2016: The Summer of Suck’ may actually go down as ‘The Summer of Learning It’s Okay For Your Throw Pillows to Be Covered with Peanut Butter, Your Floor Smeared with Baby Poop and Someone Packed a Moldy Sandwich in a Moving Box…But Mr. Spock Still Loves You’.

That’s a long title and I want to sleep for two months until we figure out what we’re going to do.  Rolling stones gather no moss but the packing paper starts getting expensive.  I’m not okay yet but I will be and that’s really, really okay.  I promise.

PS…Mom, I’m sorry for using the word ‘suck’. I know, I know…you raised me better.  Also, He-Man’s eyebrows aren’t really stupid.

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Finding My Pen Name in the Hair Care Aisle…

As I prepare to publish ‘The Continuing Story of the Princess and the Pea’, I’ve been asked several times what the name on the cover will be.  Weird (cool.  But still weird).  I’ve been dreaming of this all my life.  And, for the longest time, I could not come up with a pen name that felt right.  I considered a grandmother’s first name, my middle name, my first name deconstructed into the two names it was created from.  But none of those seemed right.

Around the same time I began, yet again, the look-out for a hair product that would make my coarse, brillo-pad hair not so frizzy.  It’s always been untamed and now, pushing 40, I was beginning to think there wasn’t anything out there so I was considering chopping it all off.  I took my 438,286th trip down the haircare aisle in the grocery store to see if there was something new I could try…

***Back Story***

For many, many years, I was very self-conscious about my hair.  I always felt awkward next to my beautiful friends who could go to school with their hair wet and within an hour, it would be dry, sleek and perfectly straight.

It wasn’t until I fell in love with a boy who really liked my curly hair that I began to stop feeling so insecure about it.  Nearly 25 years later, when we get separated in a crowd he still looks for my enormous curly hair that on some days nearly doubles the appearance of my head.


So there I was, transfixed by the dozens of hair care products in front of me, when an epiphany struck me in the head like a frying pan.  (Luckily, my enormous hair absorbed the brunt of the impact.)  I have never stopped to consider WHY my hair is the way it is. 

I always knew it came from my momma.  I got her prominent nose too.  I knew she grew up in SoCal and has an affinity for the beach.  Her mother and father divorced when she was very young so she didn’t have a relationship with her dad until she was an adult.  I knew he was Portuguese and I grew up hearing the stories of his parents emigrating from the Azores to the United States.  But I’m ashamed to say I never, ever let it sink in until that moment in the grocery store.  My hair is the way it is because I’m my mother’s daughter.  My mother, my grandfather of Portuguese descent.

All this time I’ve been oblivious.

Oblivious to a very large portion of my heritage.  Yes, part of that is because good relationships go bad sometimes.  People make mistakes.  Sometimes we completely blow it.  But I should have been asking questions about these ancestors a long time ago.

My mom and dad occasionally told me about my immigrant grandparents.  They settled in California.  He was a shepherd.  The only thing I really remembered about their story was he used to castrate boy sheep.  WITH HIS TEETH.  That’s pretty hardcore.  And a little too much for a prepubescent girl to process.  My parents thought this was hysterical and I never thought to ask for any more details.

With this new understanding, the impact of who they were has become pretty profound to me.  There he was, my great-grandfather running through the fields of Northern California chasing sheep who were probably running for their lives.  I imagine my grandmother was home making food for him when he came home.  She probably kissed him.  On. The. Mouth. to welcome him home.

But more than that, these people lived. They loved each other and they worked hard for their family in a new country.  I wonder if people were kind to them and welcomed them into their new community.  It is no longer lost on me that they came here for a better life, for improvement and to give their children greater opportunity.  Their children, meaning my grandpa.  My mother.  Me.

Suddenly the echoes left by their influence are very relatable.  My life, the way I’ve blended in so easily it took almost 40 years to register, is a gift given to me by people who toiled for where their posterity is today.  I’ve had an overwhelming desire to discover more of their story and to find a way to honor them.

And then, it came together.  My beautiful Portuguese grandfather gave the perfect suggestion.  I could honor them by using my great-grandmother’s maiden name as my pen name.  And so, after much consideration, the name on my book will be T.D. Sequeira.  It will be there as a way to say ‘I love you too’ and ‘thank you’.

Our children love to hear us tell them stories.  They laugh at their daddy’s tales of the shenanigans he and his brothers pulled.  They love to hear the memories I tell them of my childhood too.  And now, they will also learn about their great-great grandparents and how grandpa was a shepherd and did his best to keep the sheep population from overrunning their natural habitat.  It will be great.  We’ll all laugh and He-Man will unconsciously cross his legs.  Because that’s part of who our children are too.

All this from a trip down the cosmetics aisle where I did actually find a new product I love, love, LOVE….and because I can’t seriously take my self seriously when taking selfies…

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Day 31 and Conversations Miss Bee was Probably Never Expecting…

Day 31:  Write a letter. Slap some postage on it and actually send it in the mail.

There’s a half an hour left in the month and I’m determined to complete my ’31 Days’ mission.  Miss Bee, Florence, keep your eyes peeled.  These are coming your way!


IMG_7223It’s been a good run.  I’m so glad we did this because we’ve made many wonderful memories this month.   We’re still missing our friends.  In fact, the first thing three of our children said Saturday morning was something about missing Bee.  And today, Bunny mentioned it again.  It did my heart good to see the text she sent Sunshine though…searching for Pokemon…in PARIS.  True story.

He-Man and I often marveled at how Miss Bee and Hobbes seemed to instantly connect.  They are obviously kindred spirits.  They just got each other.  I think we figured out why:  We’re a bunch of Crazies.  Spend enough time with us and you’ll embrace it like it’s normal.  I’m pretty sure Bee and Hobbes are new enough to the family to still be wondering how the heck they landed where they did.  download_20160725_204255

That got me thinking, she probably wasn’t expecting many of the conversations that went on in our zoo.  While she handle it with grace and impeccable dignity, she may or may not have witness the following situations…

Like when we had to explain to Calvin, more than once a week, why being completely naked in front of guests is not polite.

Or that yes, it is possible to do six loads of laundry in a single day and STILL have more to do.

A freshly cleaned and vacuumed car can actually be completely destroyed in one outing and when mom says, ‘The kids are NEVER eating in the car AGAIN’, she really doesn’t mean it.

Our dinner time rules were often reviewed.  Especially the one warning our eaters that if they chose to burp, fart or pick their noses at the table, they would not get to sit beside our guest.

The kids also needed to be reminded that a gigantic man-eating spider the size of my pinkie fingernail hanging out in the corner DOES NOT exempt you from cleaning your bathroom ESPECIALLY after the epic bloody nose that left it looking like a crime scene.  (I’m still mortified by that one)

Toilet water is never, EVER used to wet your sister’s toothbrush.

And NO, toothpaste is not your afternoon snack.

We always go to the bathroom WITH THE DOOR CLOSED.

And peeing off the deck is not appropriate.

And last but certainly not least, six people can literally be talking to one person at the same time and that person can actually follow every single one of the conversations.

Yes, it’s crazy but it’s my crazy and I love it and I’m so glad we got to share it.  Happy July, Miss Bee.  We miss you already.  Here’s to being together in Paris during Springtime.  

Love, The Funny Farm




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Day 30…The Hardest One Yet.

Day 30:  Acquire a unique souvenir to commemorate this month’s adventures.

‘Goodbyes’ are much harder than ‘hellos’.  Living in several places means our kids are getting pretty good at it.  That doesn’t mean it isn’t hard.

Today was the day to bid Miss Bee farewell.  But before, we wanted to show her one more special place.  We took her to Gardner Village.  We tasted homemade caramel, sat and ate by a pond filled with koi, then gave Miss Bee a unique souvenir: a fairy kiss.  This is a tradition for our family.  Every time we go to GV, we get ourselves kissed by a fairy.  The sparkle brings out our eyes.


Then is was off to the airport for tough part.  We were all doing fine until one person started to cry.  Then it was all over.  The kids were heartbroken to say ‘goodbye’ to someone we’ve decided will be a forever friend.

As I was buckling Calvin in, he scowled and said, “I don’t not want Miss Bee to go away”.

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As we drove away Bunny, who is the one who takes these moments the hardest, decided she would rather have to say goodbye to a loved one rather than to have never known them in the first place.  That’s a big step for her.  When we moved away from Neverland and her best friend who lived next door, she hadn’t come to that conclusion.

Saying ‘farewell’ is for the birds and is totally lame.




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Days 26, 29 & 30

We’re running out of days to complete our adventures!  Actually, we are down to just hours before we have to give our goodbyes to Miss Bee.  That is the unfun part.  BUT we have accomplished just about every thing we set out to do this month.   In fact, we pack three days into one today!

Day 26: Pick out your favorite house in the area.  You know, the one you always notice.  Take a picture of it.  Bonus if you knock on the door and meet the people inside.

I think this may be one of our favorite adventures.  It reminded me of how beautiful people are and how much joy can come from just one small interaction.

We picked two houses.  One we walk past often.  The people weren’t home at the first stop so we didn’t get to give them flowers.  I love this one because it reminds me of a cottage in the English countryside.  It even has ivy creeping along an archway.  If Jane Austen were still alive, I imagine this is what her house would look like.  (happy sigh)


The second home is one I’ve noticed before.  Its cheerful red color is the perfect backdrop for one of the prettiest yards I have ever seen.  It’s just bursting with color.  Driving past it, I knew we had to stop.  I’m so glad we did.  We met the most wonderful woman.  A mother of nine, she gladly admits she loves flowers and gardening second only to children.  There was something about her that reminded me of Susan Sowerby, a character from Frances Hodgson Burnett’s book ‘The Secret Garden’.  Susan’s capacity to love and nurture inspired children who’d been hurt and emotionally neglected their entire lives to suddenly feel the immense warmth of being unconditionally loved for the very first time.  I’m pretty sure our new friend is the real life Mrs. Sowerby.  And her backyard is just as breathtaking as the front.  What a sweet blessing to connect with such a beautiful person.

Day 29:  Explore a grocery store and find a food you’ve never tried and dare yourself to try it.

Two words.  Lemon Bars.  Miss Bee had never heard of them.  In between the bagels for tomorrow’s breakfast, the bunches of bananas and bags of apples, we opted for these little bites of sunshine.  It’s what a western summer afternoon tastes like.


Day 30: Do something completely and utterly spontaneous.

Okay.  We’re getting ahead of ourselves.  But like I said, we’re down to hours.  We had to do something spontaneous.  But with the temperature hitting triple digits, we waited until later to hike Y Mountain just to make one last memory.  IMG_7114

And on the way down, we watched the sunset in the west against these amazing Utah mountains.


How can the month almost be over already?!

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Days 25&27

Day 25:  Discover a local museum.

Today we went to the BYU art museum.  I used to come here during my college years when I just needed to disconnect from everything.  There was a particular painting of a forest scene.  The way the artist created the sunlight piercing through the leaves felt so real.  I’m sure if I were to touch the painting it would be warm.  Then I’d be hauled off in handcuffs or something.

A trip seemed perfect today…

Here’s the crew contemplating the artwork from ‘Branding the American West’.

We also stopped for a truly American treat.  A&W Root Beer.  Ms. Bee had never even heard of it…

The evening ended in the most lovely, laid back way possible.  Florence made us galette, a tradition dinner dish from Brittany.  We sat around the kitchen table and talked for a while.  It was awesome and made me want to move to the French countryside, like, yesterday.


Day 27: Introduce each other to your top ten favorite songs.

This was one of my favorite challenges.  We love music.  Very few days go by without music playing in the background somewhere in our house.  The best part is we love almost every kind.  We’ve got a very eclectic mix.  We asked the kids to pick one song to share with Ms. Bee.  She, in turn, picked 10 of her favorites.  Here’s our playlists:

He-Man:  ‘Fanfare for the Common Man’-Aaron Copland

Trish: ‘Hold on Tight’-Greg Holden

Sunshine: ‘Say Hey.  I Love You’-Michael Franti

Bunny:  ‘Rhythm of Love’-The Plain White Ts

LuLu:  ‘Fight Song’-Rachel Platten

Ruby:  ‘Glorious’-Stephanie Mabey

Calvin: ‘When Can I See You Again’-Owl City

Hobbes:  ‘Big Heart’-Frances England

We also have a favorite anthem our family always rocks out too.  ‘Shut Up and Dance‘ by Walk the Moon is awesome.  Yeah, it may have been ridiculously over played last year but it is still awesome.  Do you know what makes it even better?  Singing it in German…which He-Man does every time.


As for Ms. Bee’s mix.  It’s awesome.  She has fabulous taste.  I’ve listened to this song by Kygo a half dozen times.  It’s so so great!

1 : On écrit Sur les Murs – Kids United
2 : Stole the Show – Kygo
3 : Vole – Celine Dion
4 : Je Ne Suis Pas un Héros – Daniel Balavoine
5 : Relax, Take it Easy – Mika
6 : Can’t Stop the Feeling – Justin Timberlake
7 :Heroes – Alesso
8 : This One’s For You – David guetta
9 : Diamonds – Josef Salvat
10 : Viva la Vida – Coldplay
11 : Crazy – Gnarls Barkley

So what’s your soundtrack?








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