Welcome to Whimsy Town!

Hey. I’m Erin. And I survived the better part of my childhood sporting a mullet. 

Folks, it kind of goes without saying, but I don’t mess around.

Growing up in North Carolina erred on the side of yallsome. Tomato sandwiches, sweet tea, Jesus save me, blue jean baby, born in the USA. All of that. It’s deep, deep in my marrow. My genetic make-up determined my blood would run Carolina blue from birth, but I made it official when I confidently or stupidly applied only to the University of North Carolina.

If the awkward use of the words “marrow” and “blood” in this About Me segment didn’t reveal it already, I studied nursing and was voted Most Likely to Be a Stay at Home Mom. Busted! Not wanting to let my classmates down, I left UNC with a degree and a date to be married! John and I moved to South Carolina, and to put a long story (which might involve some malfunctioning birth control) short, we had four boys. Bless my heart, and tell me how much money I’ll save not having to pay for any weddings. Apparently this is the protocol.

Throughout my baby factory days, I dabbled in labor/delivery and pediatric nursing, blogging and painting via Whimsy and Co. But now that the factory has stopped producing, it seems that the creative bug has bitten again. If you’re a maker/creator/producer of things, you know what this feels like. Sometimes despite the lack of blank space on your calendar and lengthy list of reasons not to, you just have to do the thing. Even if just for the sake of doing it. Hence…

Whimsytown.

The blog. The place you’ll want to land if you could use some of the following in your life. 

1. FLUFF. As in humorous nonsense. All too often I wake out of a deep sleep worrying about real life stuff. Did that poor soccer team get rescued from the flooded cave in Thailand? Is another hurricane coming?! I can promise you that despite the fact I’m not entirely sure what will be blogged about, please know content will be light and won’t hijack your REM cycle. Life itself has the corner on the market for panic-inducing news. Not Whimsytown. We good.

2. COLOR. I’m the moth. Color is the flame. It’s just how it is. There are no shortages of rainbows, glitter, or fun fashion sneakers ‘round these parts. Basically, I’m just trying to get on this level:

photo: @baddiewinkle on Instagram

3. GIRL STUFF. Growing up around a brother and all boy cousins, “girl stuff” was typically a euphemism for anything dealing with a tampon. Not here, folks. Girl stuff is broad strokes for mom hacks, kid stories, cool products I find via internet sleuthing, Whimsy and Co. prints, stories of how I wore the fancy thing to the non fancy event, etc.  You can imagine that there’s a lack of girl things in my home. This should be a safe space for both of us.

4. BOY STUFF. Four sons equals accessible and consistent material! I’m also starting to forget things and asking questions like, “Now which kid used to say _______?”, so this can serve as a reminder. I’ll enjoy this at the nursing home.

5. THE SOUTH. I’m a Carolina girl through and through. From Tarheels to Panthers, North to South, Atlantic to Blue Ridge. Whimsytown’s imaginary physical location is undoubtedly below the Mason Dixon.

 

But errbody welcome in Whimsytown.