the gingham couch & chicken stock

It’s been a while! The start of this year has felt full in every possible way.

Right after the holidays, we were hit with a snowstorm that caused an ice dam along the edge of our roof. We didn’t realize what was happening at first, and then suddenly water started dripping inside the house. At first I chalked it up to condensation but after slowly making my way down to the kitchen it quickly felt like something was wrong. I was in the midst of making a French dip sandwich so I didn’t pay it too much attention just placing buckets to catch the water where it seemed severe. When Lucky noticed our ceiling leaking it was time to wrap up the cooking and figure out the problem. There is something incredibly unsettling about seeing water where it doesn’t belong. As if on cue, our kitchen demolition began almost immediately after.

The cabinets came down, the counters were ripped out, and the room that once held so much life was reduced to exposed beams and plastic sheeting. It’s strange how quickly a house can feel unfamiliar. The echo is different now. The kids’ footsteps sound louder. I’ve been washing dishes in the bathroom sink and cooking simple meals with one pan. It’s been chaotic and inconvenient, but also strangely clarifying.

In the middle of all of that, New York fashion week happened.

Fittings squeezed between feedings, and more outfit changes than I could count. I’ve learned how to nurse anywhere and sometimes thats in the back of cars outside shows. Postpartum has been a quiet adjustment this time around. I feel strong, but I also feel tired in a deeper way. The kind of tiredness that isn’t solved by one good night of sleep. My body is still healing. My hormones are still shifting. Some days I feel completely grounded, and other days I feel more sensitive, more aware of how much change has happened in such a short time.

And beneath all of that, there has been another layer to this season.