Pop-Up Sale!!!

by Mini and Me in


  Sunday, October 7th at The Cotton Company in downtown Wake Forest, NC    1:00-5:00 pm

Sunday, October 7th at The Cotton Company in downtown Wake Forest, NC

1:00-5:00 pm

Mini & Me will be giving away door prizes and offering 20% off all items from Friday 10/5 through Sunday 10/7 as downtown Wake Forest celebrates Fall with an Art Walk on Friday and Oktoberfest on Saturday.

But the real fun starts on Sunday with our first ever POP-UP SALE!!! We’re taking over another booth at The Cotton Company just to give away our merchandise (OK, that’s a slight exaggeration…but only a slight one!). Items will be priced as marked starting at only $1.00!! Don’t miss this awesome opportunity to start your holiday shopping or spruce up your own Fall wardrobe!


Fall!

by Mini and Me in


Can we just talk about Fall for a minute? Pumpkin spice and crisp air and cozy sweaters! We can’t get enough of this season! Here are a few things we’ve brought into the shop to celebrate the new season.

 Terra Cotta perfection!  Cute with a tee underneath when the weather starts cooling.

Terra Cotta perfection! Cute with a tee underneath when the weather starts cooling.

 Pumpkin Chai candles!

Pumpkin Chai candles!

 Tassel earrings in fun Fall colors!

Tassel earrings in fun Fall colors!

We hope you’re as happy as we are to transition to Fall, and we hope we can help you and your home get a little dressed up for the occasion!


Childhood Cancer Awareness Month

by Mini and Me


Mini & Me friends--I have something really important to talk to you about.  Childhood Cancer.

September is Childhood Cancer Awareness Month.  Every single day this month, 43 children in the USA will be diagnosed with cancer.  1,290 new cases of childhood cancer will be diagnosed in the USA before the month is over.  155 children will die of cancer in September in our country.

So what?  It won't be my kid.  I'm being bombarded by requests for help everyday.  I'm sick of it.  I'm tired of giving.  What can I do anyway?  

Right or wrong, these thoughts are common.  Until your child or grandchild or niece or nephew is the one in 285 children diagnosed.  

In 2011, my son Nick was diagnosed with brain cancer.  I don't think I have any words to adequately describe how horrific our journey was.  How uncertain our future feels.  Any nightmare you can imagine it's like, it's worse.  Emotionally.  Physically.  Financially.

And the families going through this need your help.  Help funding research.  Help paying their bills because they can't work when they're child is in treatment.  Hell, this is straight up WRONG, but they even need help paying for the parking in the hospital and medical centers...For these families, those charges really add up at a time they have no income.

I'm attaching an article that describes this journey in the best way I've seen.  Please read it.  Really read it.  Feel it.  Let it sink in.  Then please don't look away from the St. Jude's telethon this year.  Donate.  And bring a family going through this a meal.  Or go to their fundraiser.  Or hug the cancer kid's mom when you see her.  Don't say corny or offensive things.  Just hug her.  She doesn't know what to say either.  But I know she's tired and aching and doesn't even know herself and her life anymore--She needs your hug.

Thank you for supporting our kids and us and the 43 kids who don't know their sick yet, but they're finding out today...

 What is it like to have a child diagnosed with cancer? It's hard to put into words all of the feelings and life changes that the word cancer brings. I've always been a photographer at heart, so pictures speak louder than words for me. This long, seemingly endless staircase is what having a child with cancer is like. It all starts at the bottom of those stairs with your ears ringing with the echo of the words, "YOUR child has CANCER". It bounces off the walls of that narrow staircase and the echo hits you over and over again. Then your climb begins. Looking up from that first step its a dizzying unbalanced feeling... how will I ever get her to the top? You look down at your child and you do what any parent would do, you hold their hand and up you climb. With all the fresh adrenaline surging threw you as you make that fight or flight response to this beast called cancer that is attacking YOUR child the first flights of stairs aren't so bad... or at least you don't have time to really stop and notice. You have to keep climbing and that's all you can focus on. There is no time to stop and rest. There is a time limit on this upward journey and you're not willing to find out what the cost of stopping might be. Now you're many stories up in this stairwell. At this point reality is setting in. You now take more notice that you are not alone on this climb. There are other parents making this same exhausting climb as you. They're holding their kids close just like you. Some are just a few steps ahead or behind you. Some are stories above you while others are just taking that first step. No matter how strong you may be, you're tired. Physically and mentally drained.  There are no elevators to get your child to the top though, so you climb on. There's hope at the top... the promise that if you can just get them up there they could live. There's also no stopping either. Once you start this climb, if you want to get to the top, you don't stop. So that means those tired little legs attached to the tiny hand you've been grasping onto need help.  That's when you pick them up and keep climbing... through the tears, through the screams of your tired aching body you keep putting one foot in front of the other. Through your child's tears, pain, fears and anxiety you press on. At some point you start to notice some of those other parents on this climb are passing you on the way back down. You may even let your mind wander to the time when that will be you and your child.  Then it hits you like a punch in the gut... some of them are walking down alone. Their arms are empty. You hold your sweet child even closer. You kiss them and hug their fragile, frail little bodies and hope you can get them to the top before they wither away in front of your eyes. You dig deep to find it in you to keep going for both of you. The worst part of all of this? Even if you can get them all the way to the top there's no promise that it's the end. That they will never have to do this again. That you will never have to make them climb this stairwell again. And that stairwell is full. Its full of exhausted parents on every level. Its full of kids who are fighting an invisible monster instead of fighting with their siblings over toys at home. It echos with the sound of both joy and pain.  Its not a guaranteed one time climb either. Some will make it to the top only to be told halfway back down they need to start climbing again. This is what having a child with cancer is like. It's a steady stream of parents and kids moving in both directions.  It's a congested stairwell in a tall, dark, very old building. With all these families climbing every hour of every day and no one on the outside of the brick and mortar walls sees them unless they happen to pass by one of the very few windows along the way.  ~Photo Credits ~  https://www.facebook.com/johnjmillerphotography/

What is it like to have a child diagnosed with cancer?
It's hard to put into words all of the feelings and life changes that the word cancer brings.
I've always been a photographer at heart, so pictures speak louder than words for me.
This long, seemingly endless staircase is what having a child with cancer is like.
It all starts at the bottom of those stairs with your ears ringing with the echo of the words, "YOUR child has CANCER". It bounces off the walls of that narrow staircase and the echo hits you over and over again.
Then your climb begins. Looking up from that first step its a dizzying unbalanced feeling... how will I ever get her to the top?
You look down at your child and you do what any parent would do, you hold their hand and up you climb.
With all the fresh adrenaline surging threw you as you make that fight or flight response to this beast called cancer that is attacking YOUR child the first flights of stairs aren't so bad... or at least you don't have time to really stop and notice. You have to keep climbing and that's all you can focus on. There is no time to stop and rest. There is a time limit on this upward journey and you're not willing to find out what the cost of stopping might be.
Now you're many stories up in this stairwell.
At this point reality is setting in. You now take more notice that you are not alone on this climb.
There are other parents making this same exhausting climb as you. They're holding their kids close just like you.
Some are just a few steps ahead or behind you. Some are stories above you while others are just taking that first step.
No matter how strong you may be, you're tired. Physically and mentally drained. 
There are no elevators to get your child to the top though, so you climb on. There's hope at the top... the promise that if you can just get them up there they could live.
There's also no stopping either. Once you start this climb, if you want to get to the top, you don't stop. So that means those tired little legs attached to the tiny hand you've been grasping onto need help. 
That's when you pick them up and keep climbing... through the tears, through the screams of your tired aching body you keep putting one foot in front of the other. Through your child's tears, pain, fears and anxiety you press on.
At some point you start to notice some of those other parents on this climb are passing you on the way back down. You may even let your mind wander to the time when that will be you and your child. 
Then it hits you like a punch in the gut... some of them are walking down alone. Their arms are empty.
You hold your sweet child even closer. You kiss them and hug their fragile, frail little bodies and hope you can get them to the top before they wither away in front of your eyes. You dig deep to find it in you to keep going for both of you.
The worst part of all of this?
Even if you can get them all the way to the top there's no promise that it's the end. That they will never have to do this again. That you will never have to make them climb this stairwell again.
And that stairwell is full.
Its full of exhausted parents on every level.
Its full of kids who are fighting an invisible monster instead of fighting with their siblings over toys at home.
It echos with the sound of both joy and pain. 
Its not a guaranteed one time climb either. Some will make it to the top only to be told halfway back down they need to start climbing again.
This is what having a child with cancer is like.
It's a steady stream of parents and kids moving in both directions. 
It's a congested stairwell in a tall, dark, very old building. With all these families climbing every hour of every day and no one on the outside of the brick and mortar walls sees them unless they happen to pass by one of the very few windows along the way.

~Photo Credits ~
https://www.facebook.com/johnjmillerphotography/


Avery Strong Benefit Show 9/8/18

by Mini and Me in


Please join us for a fun afternoon to support Avery Cooper, a Wake Forest 13 year old battling medulloblastoma, brain cancer.  Avery and her sisters will be modeling for Mini & Me in our fall fashion show, and we will have food, raffles, entertainment, and vendors!  Let's support Avery and her family and have a great time doing it!

Please see the event page for complete details:  https://www.facebook.com/events/2039852969359341/

Avery Strong Benefit Show

Tickets are on sale now at The Cotton Company!  Admission tickets/seats are limited.  We recommend purchasing as soon as possible.  Cash only.