at home: a homemaking series || light

This is a simple homemaking series focusing on making a welcoming space for you, your littles and your guests. Many are methods I've observed from dear friends whose homes are the warmest, coziest places imaginable. A comfortable, hospitable home does not require hours of cleaning and heaps of money. Simple is often best.

I'll start with the easiest idea: light a candle. It will cast visual warmth and a lovely scent to any scene. A candle in the kitchen reminds me to breathe deeply when cooking seems mundane. Tapers on the dining room table transform a normal dinner into a special occasion. A lit pillar on the coffee table calms our play to a slower pace and brightens a rainy day.

A candle transforms the mood of the room and, often, the mood of its occupants. I light candles when I'm playing with the boys on the floor, when girlfriends are over for coffee and when the house is quiet during nap time. Give it a shot. I'm off to light mine now.


25 / 52

"A portrait of my sons, once a week, every week, in 2015."

August: (2 years old) you ate (a portion of) your first "lolli-lap" this week with eyes wide and mouth smiling; how can I refuse you all sugar when I see how happy it makes you?

Boston: (six weeks old) you are patient and content, until you are not; everyone, plug your ears because this kid cries more suddenly and much louder than any other 6 week old


Project inspired by Jodi.


Weeks 22, 23, 24 of the 52 Project

"A portrait of my sons, once a week, every week, in 2015."

August: (2 years old) your hair is bleaching out from these sunny summer days spent outside [22 / 52]

Boston: (3 weeks old) every morning, we walk to the park with you nestled asleep in the sling; I cherish holding you close [22 / 52]


August: this week our house is filled with dear friends, lots of laughter and happy memories; watching you interact with friends is my new favorite [23 / 52]

Boston: (four weeks old) you handle the noise of company wonderfully, sleeping through it all [23 / 52]


August: we walk to the end of Folly to see the lighthouse one night with our company and you ask- repeatedly, for weeks- to go to the beach and lighthouse with "friends" [24 / 52] 
Photo by Emily Unverzagt (thanks, Em!)

Boston: (five weeks old) you stretch your neck up and set your jaw, giving you a determined sort of look, in the same manner your brother did [24 / 52]

Linking up with Jodi's 52 Project here.


A Beautiful Day

I've been posting a lot of films lately. I know. But let's be real for a second: I have a six week old who eats every two hours around the clock, a two year old who only wants to run, and a yard that is nearly 100 degrees in the shade. I am mental mush. When I am sleep deprived, I can barely type a text to my own mother. Nothing coherent is coming out of me at the moment so I've resolved to post my husband's films. Brandon is a master creative mind who requires zero sleep. He has managed to make three films of our beautiful boys in six weeks. I am more than impressed: I am envious.

If you like the song, High Roller, check out the rest of the Sugar and the Hi Lows' new album here


Weeks 19, 20, 21 of the 52 Project

"A portrait of my sons, once a week, every week, in 2015."

August: (two years old) you run everywhere, blurring the world around you; occasionally I can still catch your eye [19 / 52]

Boston: (newborn) you were born so round and squishy, you look one month old in pictures; "he looks smaller in person" is everyone's comment [19 / 52]


August: after you wake from your (shorter-everyday) nap, we play together on your bedroom floor before Boston rises [20 / 52]

Boston: (one week old) you already smile in your precious sleep [20 / 52]


August: at the park, you push toy cars up the long wooden ramp and run them back down faster than I thought possible [21 / 52]

Boston: (two weeks old) everyday, you are more alert with sweet smiles and attentive eyes [21 / 52]

Linking up with Jodi's 52 Project here.


Summertime with Friends


Our weekend evening beach walk was pure magic. I am so thankful for lifetime friends who feel like family and bless me time and time again. 


Because These Days are Fleeting || Spring 2015

I hope to remember...

These days of newborn you are so snugly and intimate.

We wrap you in blankets passed down from your brother, your father, your uncles, your mother.

You curl up in my arms and nuzzle onto my chest until you find the perfect spot. Your head may be buried in the crook of my arm or stretched back so I can gaze at your face. If your arms are not swaddled, you gather them under your chin in a fist as another layer of comfort. 

We pull you close to our chests with your legs folded under like a frog.

We hold you tightly and you sleep to the rhythm of our heartbeat.

I hope to remember that you and I were once lazy and snugly and close.