Babybloomr

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  1. Sundays

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  2. And that's what I love about the South.

    So it's Memorial Day and I'm in Gatlinburg-- yes, on purpose. We come here every year for Family Fest and thoroughly enjoy ourselves. I love this town; there, I said it! Look, I know it's tacky and overcrowded and apparently an irony-free zone where everywhere you look there are people wearing tee-shirts with teddy bears holding hearts on them, and substantial women who have crammed their child-bearing hips into terry cloth streeeeeeetch shorts that say 'Juicy' across the the rear, and heavily tattooed men (possibly done by themselves in prison) who feel compelled to hold onto their pants (and genitalia) just to keep them (the pants, not the genitalia) (hopefully) from falling down around their oversized sneaks. I know all that. But I am from Arkansas, remember? I have a high tolerance for fried foods, rednecks and traffic so actually, this whole area is like a match made in heaven for me.    Read more >

  3. Ebbing

    I didn't even know I was crying until my cheeks were wet. I pulled up to the stop sign, made sure there wasn't a car behind me, and started fishing around in my purse for a kleenex. Charlotte's concerned voice came from the back seat, "Mom, what's wrong?" I smiled weakly, made a dismissive wave with my hand and blew my nose. "I'm okay, honey. Just got kind of sad all of a sudden about leaving Nanno and Papa. It's all right, I'm ready to drive now." Madi eyed me suspiciously, and then said firmly, "He's FINE. Papa is just fine," before replacing her iPod earbud and studiously looking out of the car window.  Sweet Madi, with the tough girl stance-- you don't fool me for a minute.  Read more >

  4. Adventures in Zumba-- apparently, my hips DO lie.

    It has recently become glaringly apparent to me that blogging, unfortunately, is not a cardio-vascular activity.  Read more >

  5. Tender Hearts

      My daughter Madi Rose can communicate with animals.  That’s what she tells me, and who am I to argue? She has explained, with all the front-tooth-missing earnestness of a seven year old, that if she squats down in front of them, and looks in their eyes and gets very still she can hear their thoughts.   Read more >

  6. Being a Christian means ALWAYS having to say you're sorry.

    I am a Christian. (But not like, one of THOSE kind.)   Read more >

  7. One Last Look

    As I slowly back out of my parents' driveway (after ostentatiously making a show of double-checking seatbelts and adjusting mirrors because I know they're watching), I tell the girls to "Wave!" and we vigorously waggle our arms and blow big sloppy kisses as we head down their quiet street and turn towards the direction of the interstate. I pause right before we round the corner, staring into the rearview mirror at the two small white-haired figures standing next to each other, smiling and waving back at us.  Read more >

  8. Self-Indulgent Musings

      July 2008    Read more >

Tori Taff

Full Name
Tori Taff
Member Since
April 2008
About Me: 

I live in the South, in the ‘burbs, with my husband of so many years you wouldn’t even freaking believe it, and two, count 'em TWO teenage girls.  Also three tiny, hairy things that appear to be dogs of some sort. Only noisier.

 

I'm a Grammy-nominated songwriter who began blogging in 2007 for the Tennessean and the 'Music City Moms' (now Moms Like Me) website. I authored a book, write a column for Homecoming Magazine, provide content for Gaither.com, and launched my personal blog, Babybloomr.com in 2008.

 

I am a fly by the seat of my pants kind of mom, which is a nice way of saying that reading my blog is going to leave you feeling all warm and superior inside.


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