I spent the evening looking across the cafeteria at a table full of Indian families, wondering why they didn’t seem to notice that I was like them. I compared their hair to mine, their skin to mine and, God help me, even their noses to mine. At one point, I actually dug through my purse, put in my nose ring and thought, Bam. Now I’m Indian.

I laughed at myself, but later that night, I cried. Because underneath the humor was an ache I thought I had healed years ago: Where did I come from? Who do I look like? And where, exactly, do I belong?

Turns out, I was looking at the wrong table.

I've been searching for my lighthouse lately, convinced I'd somehow lost my way. It turns out the answer wasn't waiting somewhere out in the fog...it was quietly tucked underneath my own blankets all along.

What if the thing you're searching for isn't a new house at all, but a feeling you've been carrying with you the whole time?

From peanut brittle and lilacs to growing children and bigger dreams, this is a story about home, gratitude, and making room for what's next.

I used to think I was missing pieces… until I realized I was the one putting them together.

A reflection on listening to your North Star, showing up in small ways, and remembering who we are — together.

I cleaned out my closet and found the real culprit behind my exhaustion: swimsuit inserts.
You know the ones — the tiny foam triangles we’re somehow supposed to keep track of while juggling kids, work, hormones, and life.

This is a love letter to mental load, motherhood, and the moment I decided I’m done covering up — literally and figuratively.
If you’ve ever felt tired of managing everything, this one’s for you. 💛

Have you ever felt a quiet longing—something pulling you toward something new? I know this feeling well. The last time, it led me to have another child. But now, with that chapter closed, the longing still lingers.

Motherhood has been a whirlwind of joy and exhaustion, but as the house grows quieter, a question settles in: What now? The love I’ve poured into raising babies is still there—so where do I put it?

Maybe this isn’t an ending but a beginning. A time to plant new seeds, to rediscover myself. Maybe, in peeling back the layers, I’ll find that what I’ve been searching for was me all along.

Do you feel it too? Let’s dig in together.

The Power of my People is strong and I am excited to dig deeper into these roots!

Normalizing failure is such a hard thing to do. But what if we gave ourselves love and grace instead of hardship and pain!

Parenting is hard…. between sarcasm, tears and yelling, it takes a village to lift you up!