Stink Bug? That’s a weird name for a blog.

I believe in letting kids be exactly who they are and experience life on their own terms. I think it’s important to speak openly and honestly with my little people about big ideas like mental health, the prevalence of racism, that love is love, and the anatomy of a female body…which is how I found myself discussing the purpose of stirrups on an medical exam room table recently.

After lots and lots of urging from friends on Facebook, I’m a blogger. My intention is to capture the real and honest moments of my life and share them with the world. I am so tired of cultivated images on social media that depict perfect lives. There is absolutely nothing interesting about perfection. I want to get real about my family’s chaos, and hope that it resonates with readers. I want to normalize talking about the challenges of being a human being in this messy world. I hope readers will come along for the ride…er, read. But even if this ends up being just for me, that’s okay. My therapists over the years have always encouraged journaling, but I have never been that kind of person. It just seems like another thing on my to do list. Yet somehow this type of journaling feels exciting. And manageable. And necessary. And like I might actually follow through with it.

So. Stink Bug. That’s a weird name for blog, right?

It stems from my kids. I have two sons. Maxwell is 13 and Luke is 5.

To start, they both smell. Like 95% of the time. I can’t explain the phenomenon. If they are not in the bath or just getting out of the bath, they smell. Honestly, they might smell then, too. It depends on whether they have used soap to wash their bodies or just the trucks cluttering the bottom of the tub. Second, we’re big nickname people. When Max was a little guy, we called him Bug. When Luke was a new baby, we called him Stinky Baby.

Stink + Bug = Stink Bug (Take that, new math!)

And that is how Stink Bug Tales was born.