*SENSITIVE MATERIAL TO FOLLOW – PLEASE BE ADVISED*

Last June we went to a family reunion. I was so excited to see family members from near and far that we only get to see every few years or even every decade! We were there all of 20 minutes and my then 18yo got on the trampoline with his younger brother. They have been on trampolines many times before but we have never owned one. Mainly because we have never had a home with enough space. Needless to say, when they see one, they try to make up for lost time by enjoying them.

My son is 5’8″ and about 115 pounds (with his clothes wet). He is a slight fella but doesn’t shy away from things he enjoys. He got on, tried to do a flip that has never been a problem in the past, and his knee slammed into his right eye socket on his way down. He stumbled off the trampoline like a drunk person. He was incredibly disoriented and within 15 min became sleepy and lethargic. He complained about shooting pain in his face and was making awful sounds that made you initially think, “Oh, he’s just over exaggerating”. A guilty thought for a Mother to have but a thought that crept in my mind for sure. One of my cousins is an ER nurse and she checked him out right away. The party was over.

His head hurt and his cheekbone area was starting to swell. It was late when we got close to home and called the ER. They said there was not much they could do for him even with a concussion and that we should just keep an eye on him throughout the night which we did. They said to contact the maxillofacial team for an in-office appointment the next day. His face was hurting and more swollen and the shooting pains became more frequent. Lasting 20 seconds to 20 minutes, they have been compared to labor pain in your face. Not something a teenager can wrap their head around.

We went to the specialist and sure enough he had fractured his right orbit and his maxillary. Again there was not much they could do until the swelling went down so he was sent home. They acknowledged the kind of pain that nerve damage causes but hesitated to give him any medication to help with it. For 3 months he bounced back and forth from his PCP, the ER and the maxillofacial team with no one wanting to handle the pain or be the treating physician. We asked for pain management referrals and neuro referrals repeatedly until they finally did and he was able to see pain management a month later.

One month after that (injury was in June, neuro visit was end of December) he finally saw the one specialty who knew exactly what he had and exactly how to treat it. He had two options: cut the nerve and have partial paralysis for the rest of his life or have a nerve stimulator implanted in his face with a battery pack in his chest. He was too young to choose the first one and at 19, he would be one of the youngest and thinnest recipients of this device. The first step was a temporary implant where the wire would run under his face along the nerve, around his ear, down his neck and the battery pack would be on his chest on the outside of his body with a special pocket bandage just to see if it would work. Now we wait for the insurance to approve everything. Wait. Wait. Wait. Pain. Pain. Pain.

The surgery for the temporary implant was intense and the device was extremely uncomfortable but…it worked!!!! Now the tough part: implanting the device permanently in his face and chest. It has a 15 year battery life and because he is so young, they were hopeful that he would not need it more than 10 years so this would be a one-and-done surgery that would last him the full 10-15 years. This was not the case. His surgery was in March. His wound site healed very very slowly. Just when we thought it was really healing…it started swelling and became really tender to the touch last month. There had not been any nerve pain since the implant but pain at the sight of the battery back just never really went away and it was worsening.

After a lot of back and forth and his surgeons trying to decide what to do, the poor guy has to have it taken out. Tomorrow morning to be exact. They will remove the nerve wires through the incision at the back of his head near his ear, then pull them through the incision near his collar bone, and then remove the whole device from the original 4-inch scar along with the full length of the wires. Then we wait for it all to heal. Then we repeat with another implant in either the same area or lower back. An infection is rare and they firmly believe that it will be successful this next round. All in all, he will know in about 3 months and fingers crossed, it all heals perfectly and he can start living his young adult life.

This has affected his ability to work, to move in with friends, to enjoy normal activities, his relationships, and obviously pain meds are no joke and become an issue of their own. He could have really spiraled downward, been negative, resentful, mean, and fallen into a deep depression but he has pushed through it all. He just wants to feel better and be as “back to Norman” (my favorite saying from their childhood that I will never say the right way) as possible. I know this is a lot of information. It is personal and does not encompass all the heartache, headache, and impacts it has had on everyone in our family but like he says, it is what it is and we cannot change the past. He will definitely never get on a trampoline again.

Well, it only took a few months of trying but not trying and we found out we were expecting. The telltale signs were unmistakable. With each child, I had immediate food aversions and could only eat cold things like yogurt, fruit, and cereal. It was watermelon with the first, pineapple with the 2nd and with this one it was cantaloupe. My husband brought me one home every day for almost 2 months! I knew this would be my last pregnancy and I decided to relish every minute of it! So by the time the sweet craving kicked in at 8 months, I wasn’t shy about having a chocolate sundae every night!

With my first pregnancy, I wanted to know the gender because I was so young and needed to prepare as much as possible. With the next pregnancy, my husband was so anxious to know since it was his first. This time I really wanted it to be a surprise since there are so few surprises in life. But…my husband was desperate to know if this might be a little girl and my 4yo wanted to know as well if he would be having a sister or a brother. So we found out and it was a boy! I was a bit relieved since I already had 2 and I grew up with 3 brothers. I just didn’t think I would know what to do with a girl. I realize now that this whole gender stuff was a bunch of bologna and overhyped but at the time it seemed important and lent a bit of peace to our family.

Since this would be my last, I was set on having a natural birth. And boy did I get what I wanted. My boys bought me an iPod nano and loaded it with all my favorite music. My Midwife said that I could labor in the tub at the hospital and I was so at ease with this idyllic fairytale idea, that I didn’t spend even a minute worrying about what natural labor would be like. I decided since I could not control when labor would start, that I work all the way up to labor day. I couldn’t wait for my body to tell me when it was time! I was secretly hoping that my water would break at work in front of all the doctors and the patients, but that didn’t happen with any of my kids. I guess some of us just want that last little bit of attention before baby comes

It was September 26th, 2007. My husband is a musician and was at a show. It was late-evening and I was on the couch watching Knocked Up. Our two grey kitties were laying on the couch, one on each side of me. I suddenly started having contractions during the scene where Katherine Heigl goes into labor. They were strong and really caught me off guard. The cats were climbing all over me and kneeding me. It was annoying and made me feel even worse. I had to literally shove them off of me. The contractions were so strong and coming so fast and I was all alone with a sleeping son in the next room. I started crying and my hands were shaking so badly that I was essentially hitting myself in the face as I was wiping the tears away. I learned later that this was called transitional labor and meant that things were happening fast.

We had a birth plan in place with my neighbor who was going to stay with our son while we went to the hospital. I could not walk and crawled to my phone to call everyone but it was late and they were not answering and my husband was playing for a few more hours. Luckily he went on a break and saw my call and returned it right away. I got ahold of the neighbors and my husband pulled up as they arrived and my snoozing kiddo was none the wiser. I was shaking terribly and could barely walk or talk but we zipped off to the hospital which was luckily a 5 min drive.

When I arrived there was no hesitation and none of the usual questioning you get by the nurses who never seem to believe you. They got me checked in and in a room ASAP. Once again I was 6 cm and I begged to get in the tub. They got me in and I put on my music and tried so hard to relax. Trying hard is the problem. Our bodies don’t work like that. I cranked up the music and within 30 minutes my midwife bust through the door and exclaimed that I was making much different noises than I was when I first got in. She reached in to check me and announced to the nurses to get me out NOW. At this time, St. Vincent did not allow patients to birth in the tub and she said it was GO time.

They got me out, dried me off and we tried some verticle birthing positions that were awkward and I was not having it. I wanted to lie down, even if it was actually counterproductive. My oldest, who was now 13, had decided that he did not want to be in the room with me for this one. However, he just couldn’t leave his mama, especially knowing that I was suffering. He decided to stay up by my side and avoid the gore and just hold my hand. The contractions were so strong and I was SO scared. Sadly I accidentally squeezed his hand too hard but he held strong for a few of them and when I realized what I had done I felt so bad! I know he wanted to be supportive but I did not want to hurt him.

Fighting your body is the worst thing you can do and unfortunately for me, that is what I ended up doing because of fear and fear alone. I could not incorporate the coping skills that I had learned. I could not mentally conquer or relinquish the pain. Each time a contraction started I would scream and as soon as it ended I would apologize over and over again for screaming until the next one came and then I would scream again. I learned the best trick that I have applied to my parenting repertoire in those moments. My midwife kept a cool washcloth on my forehead but it would get warm quickly. Like an eagle saint, she would swoop in, grab the washcloth, swing it around in the air like a lasso, and just like that…it was cold again. GENIUS!

It was now time to push. The moment I had been waiting for! The first two kiddos I had pushed only a few times. Boy was I in for a surprise. I pushed for over an hour with this kiddo. I heard, “Keep pushing, he’s right there” a million times. Finally, I responded in a defeated tear-filled voice, “Is he really right there? Or are you just trying to make me feel good? Cause you have said that so many times!” I remember that I could not seem to get my legs pulled back far enough. I kept asking my husband to hold my legs back. He just wasn’t doing it right. I finally grabbed my legs and pulled them back as far as humanly possible. A few more really big pushes and he was finally here! He was absolutely beautiful and even though he weighed the same as his oldest brother, he was just more solid. I suppose when you are 3 inches shorter in length, that’ll do it.

The most magical thing about natural labor is that as soon as the baby is born, the pain stops. Getting them out is the solution to the pain. You are literally back to normal after that. And actually even better than normal. The feeling that floods through you after they are born is the best feeling I have ever felt. I remember feeling so invincible. Too invincible. I got up to use the restroom and crumpled to the floor. My legs wouldn’t work! Not because of having a baby but because I had pulled my legs back so far for so long that I had overextended and torn some of the muscles. Oops! I was wobbly for a while because of that but otherwise, I felt great! I even had some new cute red freckles on my checks (from pushing so hard!).

We had given Paolo, the 4yo, a baby doll as a special gift, so he could have his own baby. After we were all settled and cleaned up he was able to meet his baby brother. He had his baby with him too and we got to leave the hospital together, and we each had a baby. He was so loving and understanding and paid attention to each little sound his brother made. I firmly believe this is the best age gap ever. They had a lot of alone time with their parents before baby arrived, they understand needs and care, they know that mom needs to tend to those needs and they can do so many things that baby can’t and they see the benefit in that. Besides, most 4-year-olds do not feel the need to revert to being a baby like a younger sibling would, because…yeah…diapers and bottles are not appealing in any way! Ha!

This was going to be my last child and I cherished every moment of that infant stage. I didn’t get flustered or overwhelmed. I loved when he fell asleep on me and I could not move for hours, when he nursed a bit too long, when he laughed and cooed, his little whimper cries that never got too loud, and even his little poops! It was all so exciting and enjoyable knowing it was going to be the last time. Or was it…

I was obsessed. A bit over the top about it and a little TMI…but my husband was afraid of me! I had become an addict and the deed became not fun at all for him. I took my temperature every day and made my little chart. I had rules and positions and timing was everything! Except…it wasn’t working. It was only succeeding in driving me crazy and driving a little wedge between me and the one man on earth that I wanted to have a mini-me of. We tried for a solid year and nada.

I reached out to a fertility specialist after talking with my PCP and they said since I already had a normal easy pregnancy and it had been a year since we started trying, I qualified to come in for an evaluation. This was in early 2003 and all this fertility stuff was pretty new to me. We took all the little tests and when we were given the results I was told that I had PCOS and my chances of getting pregnant each month were about 25% of women without PCOS. And the hubby scored a D on his swimmers. They scheduled a visit in 1 month to start fertility medication. They also said there was a 10% chance that we could have twins and to mull that over before our appointment.

I was thrilled!!! For many reasons. Firstly, I was so elated to learn that there was actually something wrong with us and that I wasn’t crazy! A huge weight lifted off my shoulders. Secondly, it meant that I was just that much closer to having the baby that I was so anxious to meet. My husband was rightfully grateful that he could have a little break! Hahahaha! Things were better than they had been in a year. I was carefree and happy and literally went around whistling and singing all day long. We were laughing, enjoying each other’s company, going on lots of “dates” and just being in the moment.

The day had arrived to go in and start the medication. We even came to terms with having multiples and were ready to rock! They require a pregnancy test before your first dose of medicine and they do it right there in the clinic. I went back, took the test, and came back to the waiting room while they processed the results. The nurse came back into the waiting room and said, “Ok! We have a positive!” I jumped up and said, “Alright! I am ready to get this started!” She paused and said, “No…I mean the test was positive! You are pregnant!” My husband and I were in absolute SHOCK! I thought when she had said we have a positive, that she meant we had a green light to start the medication. I never expected to find out we had already gotten pregnant on our own!!

Apparently, this is pretty common, and why they make people wait a month to start the medication. A lot of times it is the stress of trying to conceive that messes things up. By eliminating the overachiever mentality and the pressure of it all, the stress level came down and the hormones and the body were in a better place to have optimal conditions to let things happen on their own. I couldn’t have been happier…the only negative side to it all was that I found out so early on that I was only 2 weeks pregnant. With my first son, I was 8 weeks along before I found out. Needless to say, this made for a VERY long pregnancy.

At my first check-up with my midwife, they gave me my due date: November 31st. I went to work the next day and told everyone and they were so excited. About halfway through the day, one of the doctors I worked for stopped in her tracks and said, “Wait…there IS no November 31st!” I completely freaked out and called my Midwife’s clinic and told them they needed to give me a new due date RIGHT AWAY!! Of course, they gave me December 1st instead of November 30th. That was a whole extra day I had to wait!

Did I ever mention that I have absolutely NO patience? I am the WORST about waiting. When I want something, I want it NOW. And I usually make it happen. And that went for this baby as well. Although there was nothing I could do about how long it would take. Each day I became more anxious, restless, and the definition of a busybody. I was going 100 miles a minute, staying very busy with work, planning, decorating, planning, preparing and did I say planning? I was the Energizer Bunny of stress and anxiety. I got hooked on that damn tv show A Baby Story and then Maternity Ward which only increased my anxiety. Finally, my husband insisted I stop watching it. I would watch it in secret if I ever happened to be home alone and then realized I had a problem! So I cut myself off cold turkey.

We had our ultrasound and found out we were having a boy! A little brother for my Z. We decided it was now time to think about names! We both got a post-it note and wrote down 10 names that we liked. We knew we wanted either an Italian name or a Japanese name to honor our families. After about 15 minutes, we showed each other our lists and the name Paolo was the only name on BOTH of our lists! And so it was decided. Which worked out well because our first choice prior to doing this was going to be Akio. Ikea opened in Portland 2 years later and as soon as we found out, we knew we made the right choice. Akio and Ikea were just way too close and that would not have been fun for him. As with most of us, he has had his share of difficulties with his given name. At a very early age, he would say, “It is POW-LOW”, while hitting his hand with his fist and then pointing down for a visual.

I finally started to try and enjoy the last bit of my pregnancy and even planned to take 2 weeks off before baby came so I could spend time with my older son, just the two of us, and get the final preparations done before the big arrival. Brother Bear had just come out in the theater and I took my 9yo to see it that Friday evening after my last day at work before my vacation and maternity leave started. We both bawled our eyes out during the movie. It was a perfect segway to all the emotions we were both about to feel. I felt a little funny after the movie and went to the restroom. Well, I would say TMI but this IS a pregnancy story so you knew what you were getting into…I lost my plug. And I lost that relaxed vacation mode feeling I was in for less than one day.

Less than 24hrs later I started having contractions and went to the hospital. My midwife was not there that evening but I was able to experience labor with the most amazing on-call midwife and I just knew it was her that was meant to be with me. I had planned to have a natural labor this time since I didn’t get to the first time, but things had escalated quickly and I was 6cm when I arrived. They said if I wanted an epidural it was now or never and even though that was probably not the right thing to say to me, I did not hesitate in saying, “Yes please!”. He was born 2 hours later. His big Brother Zarin was in the room with us (I later refer to this as the best birth control ever) and he wanted to be involved. When Paolo was almost out, he asked if he could cut the cord. The midwife sweetly let him know that since this was AG’s (my husband’s) first child, he was looking forward to doing that, but that she had another job in mind for him.

She gently nudged him toward the baby that had just had his head birthed and his shoulders were next. She grabbed Zarin’s hands and said, “Put them under his arms and pull”. Zarin’s eyes were as big and bright as two moons as he followed her instructions and pulled his brother out so very carefully. We were all crying and it was just magical! My husband cut the cord and they handed our baby boy to him. Before passing him to me, he held him up, looked at him right in the eyes with tears still streaming down, and said in a very loving and serious tone, “Please use your powers for good”. Then it was my turn to hold this baby that I felt like I had waited forever for. My Paolo, our Pojinator, Mr. P, P-Man, Pow Pow…Po. He was 6 years old before he finally let me stop holding him.

I am a firm believer that however you felt during pregnancy, will be the personality of your child. My sweet Poji was such a good boy but so anxious and so impatient, just like I was while he was in my belly. His first little sentence was, “Uppy me”. He was glued to me. Would never let anyone else hold him. Always had one hand down my shirt and I had to lay with him until he was completely asleep before I could leave the room. From about age 3, he would regularly ask, “Can you feel my forehead?” or “Can you feel my heart?” That was his way of checking in and making sure he was ok. He was very concerned about it but was always a healthy child. He is 19 now and always comes to me for advice, still asks me to feel his forehead, and never leaves without saying I love you. Wouldn’t trade that for the world.

I know many of you know exactly what I mean with a lot of the things I am sharing. I love how different every child is but how similar they are too. It makes me realize that as parents, we are going through so many of the same things while perhaps not at the same exact time together, but at some point in our parenting, we have been there. I also know that my story of waiting and longing is nowhere near as long as others have had to wait or as challenging as it has been for some. I see and support you and would truly love to hear your story so please feel free to share whether it be here or when we strike up a conversation or in an email.

I was asked to submit my story by a wonderful photographer who was doing a project titled The Teen Parent Story Project. It was on display with professional photos along with many other mothers and their children at Paragon Art Gallery. Here is the story which I have made minor edits to since some time has passed. This is a segway into introducing you to each of the 4 children that call me Mom who are also the driving force behind all I do.

“Congratulations!” said the nurse on the other end of the line. My heart stopped beating for a
moment and then I replied, “Maybe you should look at the date of birth on my records.” She
apologized and said that I should schedule an appointment for an ultrasound because I was
already more than eight weeks along. I complied, finished getting dressed for school, and made a phone call to my boyfriend. I told him I was pregnant and that I really cared about him and
wanted him to be a part of this, but that I would not be upset if he chose to go another direction. I did not need time to make my decision: it took me exactly seven seconds to decide what I would do when I heard my results. I was going to take responsibility for the little life that had begun to
grow inside me. I knew that I would be surrounded by loving, supportive people and that I would finish school, get us our own place, go to college, get a good job and be a great mother, even if I had to do it solo. It was the middle of December 1993 and I was 17 years old.

The first adult I encountered was my beloved teacher and mentor. He knew something was
wrong right away. We sat down and I told him I had just found out I was pregnant. He was very
gentle and supportive. We discussed what my plans were and that I had no intention of leaving
school early. It happened to be the day that we had to order our graduation gowns so the silly but well-meaning secretary ordered me an extra extra large. I was 5 feet 1 inch tall and weighed 99 pounds. Needless to say, when graduation came around that following June, I was eight months
pregnant, 120 pounds, and could wrap that gown around myself three times. My one blurry
graduation picture, with a finger blocking most of it, was pretty ridiculous.

I worked at a medical clinic in Northwest Portland and everyone there was very supportive. So supportive, in fact, that when I told them I was pregnant, they offered to adopt the baby. I smiled and thanked them, but that it would not be necessary.  My teacher found a program for me called Continuing Education for Young Parents, that would allow me to attend school two hours a day to get my last needed credits. I said I would only switch programs if I was allowed to graduate from my current school, walk with my peers, and have my diploma represent the place I had been for the majority of my high school years. They agreed. I graduated with a perfect grade-point average and said goodbye to all my friends as they went off to party. I went home, my parents made my favorite dinner, and I was in bed by 10 p.m. After graduation I continued to work until the day I went into labor, saving every penny.

Even with all that comes with being pregnant, let alone a pregnant teen and the stigma that came
with it, I did not let it get to me. I was happy and healthy and couldn’t ask for better parents.
Even my boyfriend’s parents were extremely kind and supportive. I had a wonderful pregnancy
that just happened to take place much earlier than I expected. I kept busy with work and school,
stayed active and spent a lot of time with friends and family. Everything seemed to have more
meaning. I looked at life differently, as if I was seeing it with a fresh new set of eyes. I knew that
how I felt, how I acted, and what I put out into the world would directly impact this little being. I
was nothing but positive.

This little man of mine arrived exactly one week after his Dad’s 18th birthday and exactly one
week before my 18th birthday on August 14th, 1994.  I had wanted a natural birth but after 30
hours of labor they told me I would be too exhausted to push when the time came and that I
should get an epidural. I didn’t argue. Once I had it the pain was gone, I slept for two hours, and
they softly woke me up and told me that the baby’s head was right there and that I just needed to
push. I signaled his Dad to push play and I gave three good pushes to “Here Comes Sunshine” by
the Grateful Dead. My birth plan stated that no family member should be denied entrance to my
room: I was surrounded by 12 family members including my parents, my boyfriend’s parents, my
aunts, my cousins and my little brothers. I looked down after that third push and my little man
was looking right at me, sunny side up. His eyes were wide open and full of light. I knew in an
instant we were meant for each other. Zarin Solomon would change the world, for certainly he
had already changed mine.

It has been 28 years and I could write an entire book about what happened from that moment
until now. Things were not always easy. Countless experiences have shaped us both into who we
are today. The two of us grew up together, learning together and from each other. No one tells
you that you will learn more from your children than they will learn from you, but it’s true. And
the plans that I made? I managed to do all the things I said I would. I got us our own little place,
I went to college and got a degree, and I got a great job in the medical field that I stayed with for 15 years. For more than 12 years now, I have owned my Hoot-n-Annie stores while raising a family. I think I may have even accomplished being a great mom. I am honored to have been chosen by the universe to be Zarin’s mother.

Although being a teen mom is not easy, I would not change a thing. Our family and each person’s arrival and placement was meant to be. My heart goes out to those who do not have the support I had. I made my own way in life but without the love that was given to Zarin and I daily, things could have gone much differently. It gave me the confidence to keep going and to look to our future. It is so hard to see anything in front of you when you have no support propelling you forward. I am passionate about supporting teen pregnancy programs and resources. I’d be happy to know about any new program or struggling individual that could use donations of pregnancy and maternity items or gear and clothing for their baby. I hope one day when I am not so busy running my shops to be able to get into a more active leadership or advocacy role in regard to teen pregnancy. Please feel free to reach out and email me any suggestions and requests to hootnanniepdx@gmail.com.

Hug your babies, big or small.

After having 3 boys, I was expecting my first daughter. I had some shopping to do! But I knew my money would go much further buying pre-owned items. Like A LOT further. You could spend $100 and get more than 10 things or $100 at a retail store and get 4 things. The choice was obvious. This was my new fave place and it was called Hoot-n-Annie and I loved it. I remember the apple hoodie that I fell head over heels for. It was $12 which seemed like a lot at the time but I put her in it all the time and she looked absolutely adorable. I met the owner several times and she was very nice and remembered my face when I came back in which made me feel good.

I had worked as an ophthalmic technician for eye surgeons for 15 years prior to my daughter’s birth. During my maternity leave, I decided not to return and to take a year off to decide what I really wanted to do. I was raised in SW Portland but lived off of 39th and Clinton for 5 years and became fond of a wonderful store called Village Merchants. When we bought a house and moved back to SW, I became quickly aware that there was nothing like that on the west side and it bummed me out. During my break from the medical world (ok…being a SAHM is NOT a break) I realized what it was that I truly wanted to do. I wanted to BE that shop on the west side where people could find awesome, fun, and funky furniture, housewares, and clothing for a fraction of retail spanning all styles and eras while giving things new life!

I wanted this so badly and set my sights on making it happen. Of course, it is not as easy as it sounds. Loans were denied left and right and the lease on a space big enough to house furniture and all the other goodies was way out of my budget. I worked with small business advocates and finally, it was recommended that I start my business online for a year and then come back to see about a loan after having some business history. I wasn’t about to sell furniture online. I racked my brain and thought, “What could I do along the same lines that would be easy to sell online?” DUH!? I had 4 kids, all my friends had kids… kid’s clothes!! And so it began. After spreading the word, I had 30 bins of clothes, fresh and clean and organized by size, gender, and clothing type all stored neatly on shelves in my oversized laundry room.

I created my website, photoed everything, and waited. Ping. I had a sale. New Jersey?? Ping. Another one in Texas. Many more rolled in from the mid-west and then the real nightmare happened; I had to mail them. Oooph. Shipping items was the worst! Remember this was in 2010 and e-commerce was not what it is today. I started to cringe when I would get an order. I was losing money on shipping left and right. I had small children at home that I would have to load up in the car every time I had to drop off packages. This was not what I had in mind. With my tail between my legs, I decided this wasn’t for me and was about to go and ask about coming back to work for the eye doctor’s office again. But then…

I got a call from my good friend Amy from high school. She said that her friend owned Hoot-n-Annie and was going to be closing and she thought I would be the perfect fit! The phone rang again. It was my friend Megan who had just visited the shop. She got into a conversation about the store closure with the owner and told her all about me. The owner said she would LOVE to meet with me and see if it was a good fit. I could not believe the coincidence of it all. I called her and set up a time to meet.

I was nervous and excited. I am a fairly shy person but she made me feel very comfortable. We talked for a while and she asked what my vision was. She was a very good listener and I could see relief dashing away the stress from her face. When I was done she said, “I want YOU to have the store. I will do whatever it takes to make it happen.” And so it happened. The end of a chapter for one person turned into the beginning of a chapter for another. I have grown from a small little shop off a busy road, to three stores in great locations dotted through the map right here on the west side. She still reaches out to me once in a while out of the blue and tells me how proud she is of me.

My name is Tina Donnaloia and I am the owner of Hoot-n-Annie Resale Boutique. I have been in operation for 12 years now. I have 4 kids ages 12 to 28. I also have 3 stores and 8 employees and I am never not working or thinking about the shops. It literally is just like having children. You never stop worrying about them, trying to help them grow, teaching them and learning from them, protecting them, or wanting to pull your hair out because of them!

I am fierce when it comes to these stores. I have an owner-operated mentality which is lucky since that is usually how small businesses go. No grandeur of becoming a millionaire rest in my head. I want to be present, know everything that is going on, meet new customers, and continue to cultivate the relationships I have made over the years. Most importantly I want longevity. For the community and for my family. This store represents all of my hard work, all of my sacrifices, all of my attention to detail, and all the care I give to my staff, our consignors and their items, and our customers and their needs. It has been an honor and a privilege to watch families grow from inside bellies to starting middle school!

When I first created the policies and structure for this business, I put myself in the customer’s shoes. I have always been an avid supporter of small businesses and second-hand stores and rarely buy things new if I can help it. I have seen the best and worst of resale and consignment stores over several decades. I always felt like there could be improvement. Why can’t I find cute clothes AND have great prices? Why can’t a store be well organized AND fun to hunt for treasures in? As a customer, I wanted to be welcomed and feel seen but I also wanted time to look on my own without any pressure. I wanted to WANT to come back regularly because I knew the inventory changed often. Even though I am very shy, I wanted the staff to remember me. We all want to be remembered. I set out to do all these things and incorporated them into my business model. And we hear on a daily basis that these things in fact do exist in one place. This place.

This blog is an attempt at sharing my world of motherhood and small business ownership along with the struggles and triumphs that go along with them. When I started this journey, my youngest was a 1-year-old and my oldest was 16. So the stories of parenting through every age range and phase go hand in hand with learning how to be a mom boss small business owner. The stories I share will be a mixture of past and present and a dabble of the future. Tips, lessons, experiences, advice, and the hard truth will be coming at you at least weekly. Follow me as I jump around in the timeline of events as a mom’s mind usually does. I hope that I can impart a little wisdom from all my ups and downs and if nothing else…a good therapeutic laugh or cry.