Meet the Zoo Crew: I Made These Tiny Humans… and They’re Absolutely Wild

Let’s just get one thing straight: this blog is not going to be neat and tidy. It’s going to be messy—like my minivan, my kitchen counter, and my life. I’m not an expert, never claimed to be (unless you count being a professional snack holder and lost shoe finder). I’m just a mom—stumbling, laughing, praying, and figuring it all out one meltdown and Target run at a time.

Here, I’ll talk about the real stuff: the hard stuff, the funny stuff, and the stuff that makes you question your sanity. From marriage struggles to finding your identity somewhere between diaper changes and carpool lanes. From parenting wins to absolute “What the heck just happened?” moments. I’ll share the stuff my kids say that you literally could not make up, and how I try (keyword: try) to hold onto my faith through it all.

Also, expect me to review a few things—baby gear, health products, home gadgets, or the skincare line my preteen insists I need because “Mom, your pores are tragic.” But more than anything, I’ll talk about the journey of motherhood, womanhood, and faith. So buckle up and meet the chaos I lovingly call my Zoo Crew.

💄 The Broke Bestie – Age 12

Ah yes, my oldest. My ride-or-die, attitude-filled broke best friend who thinks I exist to fund her Sephora habit. This child has a skincare routine that costs more than my first car, and she truly believes that bonding means going to Ulta and rating foundation shades. She’s all sass and soul—an old lady trapped in a tween body.

She calls me bro more than she calls me mom, and I’ve had full conversations where I needed Google Translate just to understand what “rizz,” “skibidi,” and “drip” mean. I am, allegedly, cringe. But here's the kicker: she's me. Like, in every annoying, headstrong, brilliant way. And if that's true, then I owe my mother an apology.

At just 12 years old, she chose to walk with Christ—and not because I forced it. She made that decision with her own heart, and that alone makes the eye-rolls, slammed doors, and tween drama worth it. She’s grown up with me, seen every version of who I was and who I’m becoming. And more often than not, she’s the one teaching me about grace.

🧠 The Truth Bomb – Age 9

Now entering: my first middle child. If you know Young Sheldon… this is her, but with more sarcasm and fewer social skills. She's so smart, she's awkward. She doesn’t do people. But if she likes you, welcome—you’ve got a fiercely loyal, brutally honest, lifetime companion.

Key word: brutally. Once, someone asked her what she thought of their outfit, and she straight-faced called them “a busted can of biscuits.” I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. We’re working on the whole "tact" thing.

She eats exactly 14 foods, and if you suggest trying something new, you will be met with the kind of side-eye that could set your soul on fire. People love giving advice like “Just make her eat what you make.” I invite those people to dinner—once. She’ll humble you.

Despite her quirks, she’s got a big, beautiful heart and a deep curiosity about Jesus. Her version of expressing love might look like correcting your grammar mid-hug, but it’s there, and it's genuine. She’s destined for greatness—or at the very least, to give every teacher she ever meets a run for their money.

🛠️ The Wrecking Ball – Age 3

My son is three years old and has already broken six baby gates. One of them he ripped out of the wall and took his big sister down with him. She walked away with a fractured kneecap. He walked away with a juice box and zero regrets.

He’s all boy: loud, wild, fearless, and allergic to sitting still. He loves wrestling, gymnastics, t-ball—if he’s not moving, he’s either asleep or plotting something. But don’t let the chaos fool you. He’s got a heart bigger than his tantrums.

When his sisters are scared, he’ll say, “It’s okay, sissy. Jesus takes the monsters away.” And I’ll just sit there crying into my coffee like an emotionally unstable Hallmark movie character. His faith is pure, his hugs are tight, and his energy is terrifying. He’s the human version of a tornado with a side of snuggles.

🔥 The Boss Baby – Age 2

And now… my tiny tyrant. My youngest. My two-year-old girl who was clearly sent here to test every limit of human patience. She’s fierce. She’s feisty. She will challenge a full-grown adult to a duel if they look at her wrong.

She’s about the size of a large house cat, eats like a grown man, and acts like she runs the family—and honestly, she kind of does. The sass in this child is unmatched. She’ll get in trouble and stand there with arms crossed like she’s disappointed in me. She’s the type of toddler people joke about being afraid of. I’m not joking.

She flips, climbs, screams, and eats snacks at a rate that defies science. But then she flashes those big doe eyes and suddenly everyone forgets she just tried to bite someone over a fruit snack. I’m convinced God made her adorable as a survival tactic. I love her wildly, but I may need therapy (and maybe a helmet) to survive the teenage years.

That’s the crew.They’re a mess. They’re chaos with limbs. They bicker, break things, and eat me out of house and home. But they’re mine. My loud, sticky, stubborn, hilarious little humans. I wouldn’t trade this circus for anything less exhausting.

Stick around, laugh with me, cry with me, pray with me, and maybe—just maybe—you’ll feel a little less alone in your own beautiful, wild motherhood mess.

Coffee’s always on. Welcome to the zoo.