Tiny Toes and Tantrums

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Don’t get a cat from a breeder.Get a cat from the shelter.Not because you can’t get a “fancier” one, but because there a...
01/02/2026

Don’t get a cat from a breeder.
Get a cat from the shelter.

Not because you can’t get a “fancier” one,
but because there are already too many good cats waiting to be chosen.

Cats who were abandoned.
Cats who were overlooked.
Cats who didn’t do nothing wrong except exist at the wrong time for someone else.

And now?
They’re loved.
They’re safe.
They’re curled up on the couch like they’ve always belonged here.

Adopting from a shelter doesn’t mean you’re settling.
It means you’re choosing compassion over convenience.
Life over aesthetics.
A second chance over perfection.

There’s nothing more special than being chosen by an animal who just needed someone to say yes.

Adopt.
Don’t shop.

Leaving the year you met your newborn.The year your world shifted quietly but completely.The year time felt both impossi...
01/01/2026

Leaving the year you met your newborn.

The year your world shifted quietly but completely.
The year time felt both impossibly slow and heartbreakingly fast.
The year you learned what it means to love someone before they ever knew your name.

Late nights, early mornings, tired eyes, full arms.
Moments that didn’t feel big at the time, but somehow became everything.

You’re leaving the year you met your newborn,
but you’re carrying every version of them with you into the next one.

When they say “don’t blink,” they mean it.Seven weeks ago, I was holding a brand-new baby.Fresh skin. Tiny noises. Sleep...
01/01/2026

When they say “don’t blink,” they mean it.

Seven weeks ago, I was holding a brand-new baby.
Fresh skin. Tiny noises. Sleepless nights that felt endless.

And somehow… seven weeks went by anyway.

The newborn stage is nearly over.
The scrunch is fading.
The stretches are getting longer.
The baby I rocked for hours is already changing.

I remember wishing time would move faster during the hardest nights.
Now I’d give anything to slow it down.

So I’m soaking it in.
The way they curl into my chest.
The way their hand still fits perfectly in mine.
The way this season feels both exhausting and sacred.

When they say don’t blink…
they’re warning you because it hurts how fast it goes.

And I’m holding on as tight as I can.

“But your kids are always staring at a screen.”No. They’re not.But yes, I let my kids play video games.Because I’m not r...
12/30/2025

“But your kids are always staring at a screen.”

No. They’re not.

But yes, I let my kids play video games.

Because I’m not raising them in a bubble where everything fun is forbidden and then acting shocked when they rebel later.

I’m building a foundation where:
• screens aren’t taboo
• balance is taught, not forced
• hobbies are allowed
• and connection happens inside the house

I’d rather my teenagers be:
•playing video games at home
•talking to us
•safe under our roof

…than sneaking out because everything enjoyable was labeled “bad” growing up.

Moderation matters.
Trust matters.
Teaching kids how to navigate the world matters more than pretending it doesn’t exist.

Screens don’t ruin kids.
Lack of guidance does.

And I’m parenting with the long game in mind.

tell me you have a toddler without telling me you have a toddler:
12/30/2025

tell me you have a toddler without telling me you have a toddler:

She’s my mini diva, and she didn’t get it from anywhere else.From the moment she opens her eyes, she has opinions.On out...
12/30/2025

She’s my mini diva, and she didn’t get it from anywhere else.

From the moment she opens her eyes, she has opinions.
On outfits. On music. On how things should be done.
And heaven help you if you get it wrong.

She’s bold. She’s expressive. She knows she’s the main character.
There’s no shrinking, no tip-toeing, no quiet corners with her.

Some days she’s all sparkle and drama.
Other days she’s fire and stubborn and “I do it myself.”
But every single day, she reminds me of who I used to be
before the world told me to soften.

Raising a daughter who’s a mini diva isn’t about taming her.
It’s about protecting that confidence.
Teaching her that her voice is power, not a problem.

She’s me but louder, braver, unapologetic.
And watching her grow feels like healing parts of myself I didn’t even know were still waiting to be healed.

The newborn stage isn’t nearly long enough.Everyone warns you about the sleepless nights.No one warns you about how fast...
12/30/2025

The newborn stage isn’t nearly long enough.

Everyone warns you about the sleepless nights.
No one warns you about how fast the magic disappears.

One day they’re curled up like they still belong inside you, soft, sleepy, milk drunk, fitting perfectly on your chest.
Their whole world is you.

And then suddenly…
the stretch.
the alert eyes.
the longer wake windows.

And without asking, the newborn stage starts slipping through your fingers.

I swear I just learned their sounds.
Just memorized the weight of them in my arms.
Just figured out how to rock them just right.

I know what’s coming next is beautiful.
The smiles. The giggles. The personality.
But there’s something sacred about this stage.

If I could pause time anywhere,
it would be right here.
Just a little longer.

It’s not talked about enough how lucky the great-grandparents are who get to see a fourth generation.To hold a baby who ...
12/30/2025

It’s not talked about enough how lucky the great-grandparents are who get to see a fourth generation.

To hold a baby who carries your blood… after watching your child become a parent… after living through decades of change, loss, love, and time.
That’s rare. That’s sacred.

Four generations in one room means history breathing in real time.
Wrinkled hands touching brand-new fingers.
Stories that started long before us, still unfolding.

Not everyone gets that gift.
Not every family gets that kind of timeline.

If your kids have living great-grandparents pause and let that sink in.
Take the photos.
Record the stories.
Let them rock the baby just a little longer.

Because that kind of legacy?
That’s something money can’t buy.

The moment your baby finally makes eye contact with you is different than any other milestone.It’s not just a look.It’s ...
12/29/2025

The moment your baby finally makes eye contact with you is different than any other milestone.

It’s not just a look.
It’s recognition.

Up until then, you’re feeding, rocking, soothing, surviving, loving them fiercely while wondering if they even know you’re the one doing it all.

And then one day…
their eyes find yours.
They hold it.
And it feels like your soul exhales.

That’s the moment it clicks:
They know you.
They feel safe with you.
You are not just arms or milk or warmth anymore, you are their person.

No one warns you how emotional that tiny gaze will be.
How it will heal parts of you you didn’t even know were tired.
How it will make every long night suddenly feel worth it.

That look says, “I see you. I trust you. I’m here.”

I’m walking into this year protecting my peace.Not carrying fake friendships.Not entertaining people who only show up wh...
12/28/2025

I’m walking into this year protecting my peace.
Not carrying fake friendships.
Not entertaining people who only show up when it benefits them.
Not explaining myself to people who don’t listen anyway.

If you don’t add value, respect, honesty, or peace to my life, you don’t get access anymore.
That’s not bitterness.
That’s growth.

I’m choosing alignment over attachment.
Peace over popularity.
And real over convenient.

Cheers to a year of less noise, fewer obligations, and no forced connections.
If you’re meant to stay, you’ll stay naturally.
If not, I’ll release you without guilt.

We don’t do matching Christmas jammies for the photos.We do them for the memory attached to the photo.For the toddler wh...
12/26/2025

We don’t do matching Christmas jammies for the photos.
We do them for the memory attached to the photo.

For the toddler who won’t sit still.
For the baby who smells like milk and sleep.
For the quiet morning before the wrapping paper hits the floor.

Same pajamas, different personalities.
Same chaos, same love.

One day they won’t want to match me.
One day they’ll be too cool for this.
But today?
They’re little.
And I get to hold this version of them.

So I’ll keep buying the matching jammies.
Because some traditions aren’t silly,
they’re sacred.

We leave early because my baby has been passed around enough.Because their cues are quieter than the room, and someone h...
12/26/2025

We leave early because my baby has been passed around enough.
Because their cues are quieter than the room, and someone has to listen to them.

We leave early because overstimulation doesn’t look like misbehavior,
it looks like red cheeks, clenched fists, missed naps, and a baby who just wants their mom.

We leave early because routines don’t disappear just because it’s a holiday.
Sleep still matters. Feeding still matters. Regulation still matters.

We leave early because postpartum doesn’t end when the calendar says Christmas.
My body is still healing. My nervous system is still fried.
And I don’t owe anyone my exhaustion as proof of love.

We leave early because I refuse to let my child crash just to make adults comfortable.
Because I’m done sacrificing my peace for politeness.

We leave early because this season is about our family now.
Not tradition for tradition’s sake.
Not guilt.
Not obligation.

And if that bothers you, it’s worth asking why access to my child matters more to you than their well-being.

We love you.
We showed up.
And we’re allowed to go home.

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1456
San Francisco, CA
94016

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