Hello again, friends 💕 Can I share something I’ve been working through lately? For a long time, I chased this idea of being the “perfect” mom, wife, friend, woman. You know the one—always patient, always organized, house sparkling, kids smiling, dinner on the table and healthy and Instagram-worthy. Oh, and don’t forget: still making time for date nights, workouts, creative hobbies, and self-care. (Exhausted yet? I sure was.)

Somewhere along the way, I realized I was holding myself to a standard that no one had actually asked of me. Not my kids. Not my husband. Definitely not my real-life friends (who are also just trying to keep up with laundry and remember what day trash pickup is). It was all in my head. A mix of social media highlight reels, my own expectations, and that little inner voice that whispers, “You’re not doing enough.” But here's what’s changed: I’ve started giving myself permission to be good enough. Not in a lazy, give-up kind of way—but in a grace-filled, human kind of way.

Dinner doesn't have to be homemade every night. Sometimes it’s cereal and scrambled eggs, and no one minds. The house can be messy and still be full of love. I can lose my patience, apologize, and still be a great mom. I can say “no” to some things and still be a good friend. I’ve learned that when I let go of perfect, I make space for something more real: connection, peace, presence. My kids don’t need a perfect mom. They need me—imperfect, sometimes tired, often silly, and always loving.

So if you’re in a season of self-doubt, comparison, or just plain overwhelm… you’re not alone. Let’s stop measuring ourselves against impossible standards and start celebrating the fact that we’re showing up, every day, with love. And that, my friends, is more than enough. 💗

Hello dear friends 💛 I’ve been thinking a lot lately about family traditions — the little rituals and routines that, over time, become the threads that hold us together.

When I was growing up, my parents had this habit of making pancakes every Sunday morning, without fail. Nothing fancy—just simple pancakes, always a little uneven, always a little burned on one side. But I remember waking up to that warm, familiar smell, and knowing that no matter how crazy the week had been, there was this one cozy moment waiting for us. We’d gather in the kitchen in our pajamas, talk about nothing and everything, and just be together.

Now that I have my own family, I find myself craving that same sense of rhythm and warmth. So, we’ve started making a few little traditions of our own. Friday night is “pizza and puzzles” night—everyone helps make the pizza, we light a few candles (yes, even for pizza!), and then we work on a puzzle together. It’s messy, sometimes chaotic, but it’s ours. I think it’s easy to underestimate how much these small rituals mean. They don’t need to be perfect or Instagram-worthy. What matters is the consistency, the intention, the togetherness. Our kids might not remember every detail of their childhood—but they’ll remember the feeling of safety, laughter, and love that filled those repeated moments.

So I guess this is just a little encouragement today: if you don’t already have a family tradition, maybe think about starting one. It doesn’t have to be big. It could be “walks after dinner,” or “Sunday afternoon story time,” or “Wednesday breakfast-for-dinner.” Something simple that says, “This is who we are. This is our time.” And if you do have a special tradition, I’d love to hear about it. Let’s inspire each other—one small, meaningful ritual at a time. 🕯✨