Real Life

As far as resolutions go, I didn't go too crazy this year: Eat better, get out more, take some trips, read some books, and work as hard as I can to get that little kid's shop we've been daydreaming about for so many months now, off the ground and running. Little Folk Habit is close. And we are so excited about the fact of it. 

* Oh, and organization. Getting organized was somewhere at the top of that list. But then again, I am convinced it will be for as long as I life, so . . . 

As for the blog, I didn't put as much emphasis there. I figure, as long as this space makes me happy, and I  still enjoy posting stuff, then I probably shouldn't change much. Right? Especially considering adding "new features" always makes me feel a bit stuck, and slightly more dedicated than I might prefer. Although, it did occur to me (somewhere in the midst of those typical New Year reflections swimming around our heads this month) that it might be nice to add a dose of "real life" to this sweet corner of mine once in awhile. By that I mean a single snapshot, raw and untouched by careful styling or ideal lighting. 

Real life. Because it seems utterly neglected on these types of lifestyle blogs these days. And because as much as I - like everyone - enjoy keeping up a carefully curated blog, it's becoming a bit too polished for my liking, sometimes looking and sounding more ready for a television commercial (or sponsored post) than a simple comment or question from you. Parts of me long for something just a touch more authentic, something off the cuff and even downright cheesy (I'll take cheesy at this point, believe me) Our generation has obviously perfected the subtle propping involved in their everyday happenings - a gorgeous breakfast in a hip new cafe, an artful latte, a sunlit room with thriving ferns and glowing children, a pretty house and a gleaming partner. Pretty shoes in new found fall leaves. You know what I'm talking about. All good and pretty things. But sometimes, don't you just want laundry piled in the hallway, burnt toast, failed dinners, and fitful children with jelly smeared cheeks? I do. So I'm letting it happen here. Occasionally. For my own good, maybe.

So that in addition to the regular posts sharing recent "thrift picks" and scenes from semi-spectacular weekends, home projects, new shop listings, and kiddie party extravaganzas, look forward to all the outtakes that sat on the sidelines for far too long. "Real life" accounts shedding light on broken trikes, unfinished corners of our home, temper tantrums and the unpretty vices that happen to liven our days. Things we can all (if only secretly) relate to, instead of strictly refined posts working as thin divisions and only serve to make us feel a little less human after we've left. After all, nothing is ever as smooth or cool as appears on these blogs. I know that as a fact. 

To new, real beginnings. To life. And all the messes that it likes to make.


Real Life: Attempt #13 at snapping a cute holiday photo that ended in an abrupt hair pulling because one boy sat in what was believed to be, another boy's designated "spot."