Today, my body feels older than my thirty-some years, I scroll Instagram and see young mothers who seem to have all the energy.
A weekend viewing of The Minimalists new documentary appropriately titled, Minimalism, spurred a renewed vigor to purge the unnecessary things in our home. Sunday afternoon found my husband cleaning out his side of the closet and chest of drawers. By national standards we already own much less than the average American, nonetheless… We still want… Continue reading Less, then Lovely
We have talkers, communicators, poets and story tellers. Yes, these are our children. Little one’s who beg for one more book, one more story from our mouths. Like a cup with holes in the bottom, draining out and leaving space for more, more, more.
The source of true wellness is so incredibly deep. Deep like the roots of a 100-year-old tree, deep like a well it’s self.
We don’t see ourselves as big enough, energetic enough, or simply enough. We define ourselves by our failures rather than our successes. We beat ourselves up, for whatever the reason.
Everything had been just fine. I swear it. The baby was happily playing at my feet and little man was in the basement with a small horde of his extremely loud friends playing ninja Spider-Man. I finally unpacked the suitcases I’d shoved in the back of our closet. I felt accomplished, we were having a… Continue reading The Witching Hour