It’s funny, to think that I felt like I hadn't done much this year when really I began multiple new things. Things that I plan to expand on next year with the hope that it will open doors for the future we have been quietly working towards.  

I am pleased to announce that i survived my first time hosting a holiday gathering. We hosted my sister and her boyfriend for a mini thanksgiving as our parents were out of town and it went much better than i thought.

I took a break from blogging and showed up less on social media for the month of October to reset mentally. We also welcomed a new member to the family…

I think i’ve gotten past my bout of postpartum blues… my village came in guns blazing in support and I was ever so reminded that it is okay to ask for help. I couldn’t stress enough just how grateful I am to them for all of their support.

This year, our homeschool begins again with a new baby in the mix. And if I’ve learned anything over time, it’s this: the year never looks the way I imagine it will… and that’s not a failure. So what am I carrying into this school year?

I have found this choking concoction of poor mental health and grief is consuming me, not to be melodramatic. I am that person who, growing up, felt like my worth was tethered to how much I could do and give and the internal work on that I have yet to master. However, I can tell you I am actively working on it. DAILY.

My 33rd birthday is on the horizon and we are venturing off on a family trip, three states in total. We are spending a weekend in Tennessee, followed by a week in Virginia, and…

I’d like to acknowledge both the ache and the wonder of change. Beginning something new is both restless and beautiful. I’ve circled back to the roots of my creativity and writing, sharing how to find all the beauty in something simple and encouraging you readers to create magic in the mundane.

This year the fourth looked like sticky fingers and giggles, a little more refined of a setting as I've grown into my style, and a kitchen that still smells like lemon and garlic as I type this. It’s delightfully imperfect.

Around 3:27am I started feeling contractions. I wasn't ready to call it just yet because the week before i had contractions but I hadn't progressed past 3cm, they were doing something but not sending me into actual labor. Eventually I found myself not being able to talk through them.

This post is dedicated to my abuela Miriam who’s birthday is tomorrow on June 7th. My abuela stepped in to raise and care for me when I was a little girl while my father was drafted and in many ways I consider her my first mother.

It was just a Tuesday. Nothing extraordinary happened, I packed my hospital bag. A cozy going home outfit, a grey waffle knit robe, a matching set of ivory cotton pajamas. Our darling girl’s going home outfit rests right on top of everything else I've deemed essential - you pack a little less come the fourth baby.