Sun-dried Tomato Bowl | @thefauxmartha

It’s rhythmic. It’s predictable. Seven days a week, it’s the same song streaming in the background. As much as I want to hate it, I love it. Let’s be honest, I crave it. She craves it too. Hallie’s little 1-year-old body, always in search of a new adventure, craves the rhythm of everything else. The rhythm of breakfast, lunch, and dinnertime. Of naptime, though we can’t seem to hold a decent beat here. Of school time and bath time. The rhythm informs. It lets us know where we are and what’s coming next. The rhythm is a schedule begging to be filled in. Read more

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Sun-dried Tomato Dressing | @thefauxmartha

Who first believed in you? Family members don’t count. For me, it was Mr. Serie. He was my 8th grade art teacher. Art was a 6-week elective then. Or was it 12-weeks? I can’t remember. But despite all my goofing off in the class, he pulled me aside and told me I was good at art. He didn’t have to do that. And I probably wasn’t all that good. But I went on to paint lots of pictures, take lots of art classes, and major in graphic design. All because Mr. Serie told me I was good at something. Words are powerful. Read more

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“Be somebody who makes everybody feel like a somebody.” —Kid President

I need to tattoo this to the inside of my hand. Most days I’m just making sure I feel like a somebody. We have two mirrors in our tiny apartment—one that’s covered in so much dust I don’t have to worry about the reflection as I pass. The other, in the bathroom, I quickly skirt by until the end of the day. That’s when I usually catch a glimpse of the disheveled person walking by. Read more

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Baked Blueberry Cake Donuts | @thefauxmartha

“Take a step back. You’re standing too close,” I texted my mom. She sent me a picture of a painting she was working on, worried that she’d added too much detail to the foreground. It’s a line I’d learned from my art teachers over the years. I’d heard it so often, it involuntarily came out. “It looks fine. Just take a step back. You’re standing too close.” Read more

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The Fauxhouse | @thefauxmartha

I’ve been alluding to it for awhile now. Talking about it like it’s not consuming every square inch of our brain (the little we have left after becoming parents). We’re building a house. I’ve just started calling it our home. A house is an object made from lots of materials. A home is a place where life is lived. We’re building a home. To get this experience, we feel extremely lucky, but it comes with exhaustion too. It’s rare that a day passes without me saying, “I’m never making another decision again.” I’m being overly dramatic, but we’ve made a lot of decisions in the last couple weeks. And no decision is made without a mood board over here. I wish you could see my desktop (actually I’m glad you can’t). I have 10,000 thumbnails of screenshots from revised boards. It’s silly and excessive, but we’re dreaming up a home that we plan to spend a lifetime in. So come on in, but don’t tell me what you think. If I have to change anything…..I can’t make another decision.

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One-pot Pantry Pasta | @thefauxmartha

I write about food. And dream about it too. Without saying it explicitly, I preach week in and out to make food from scratch. It’s better that way. But come 5:00 pm on a weeknight, I’m without a message to preach or an idea of what to make. Dinner’s hard. It’s even harder now that we have a tiny little person who needs to be in bed by the time we once started making it. Unlike the rest of our life, we kept dinner spontaneous because we could. Long-winded when we felt like it. It wasn’t a burden then. Read more

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Heart Stamped Cookies | @thefauxmartha

You know you’re a mom when showering becomes an item on the to-do list. When diapers are a line-item in your budget. When a good night’s sleep is 5 consecutive hours. When folding laundry means catching up on an entire episode of Grey’s. When you start decorating cookies with stamps. That’s when you really know you’re a mom. Read more

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