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.

Even the most mundane routines can feel like a warm hug with a shift in perspective. I’m sharing how I turned our grocery haul days into a cozy ritual—from handwritten lists on ivory lined paper to reusable bags, woven farmers market baskets, and a reward latte on the way home.

I'm not here to master each skill I want to explore, but rather enjoy the novelty of it and allow myself to fall in love, with whichever hobbies, naturally.

In this post, I’ll share how I style and shoot casual at-home photo sessions that feel straight out of ‘The Holiday’—soft, sentimental, and full of movement.

In my case it fed my drive to heal and become better. To be tender and careful with the hearts that come into my life. I carry each one like a treasure so as to never break them the way these former friends broke mine.