I’ve always loved a bit of order, a sense of rhythm to our days. And now, with a one-year-old toddling around and my eldest heading into second grade, that little bit of structure has become essential.

Every Sunday evening, once the house quiets down and the kids are asleep, I take a few minutes just for me and my planner. It’s my reset button. I sit down and think about the week ahead:

• Do we have any appointments coming up? A check up, a playdate, piano lesson, a coffee with a friend?

• What do I need to get done? Maybe it’s my eldest’s closet to see what fits for the new season, prepping for back to school shopping, or tackling a few home tasks I’ve been meaning to get to.

• What’s for dinner? I don’t go overboard here, just a rough plan of what we’ll cook or eat through the week, which helps me create a grocery list and saves a lot of last minute stress.

It’s nothing elaborate. Just a little moment to get things in order. A mental and practical deep breath before Monday starts.

This habit has helped me feel more in control, especially during seasons of change, like this one, with school starting soon and my baby who just turned one (how is that even possible?). Life with two kids is always full, but this small ritual gives me clarity. And that clarity gives me confidence.

So, if you ever feel like things are slipping through the cracks, maybe give Sunday planning a try. A quiet cup of tea, a notebook, and a few intentional minutes can truly shift the week ahead.

Summer and homework, not exactly the perfect pair.

This year, my 8 year old came home for the summer with two full notebooks of exercises and a book to read. And not just any book but the kind of book that you have to read before you can even start one of the notebooks. So, in a way, it’s a three-part mission: read the book, finish both notebooks, and somehow still enjoy the summer.

Before we left for Greece, she managed to complete one of the notebooks. I was proud of her, she stuck with it even when it was hard to focus, and she got it done. But now, we’re home, the trip is behind us, the heat is still lingering, and there’s still the book… and the second notebook waiting patiently on her desk.

She’s started reading the book, and to her credit, she’s loving it. She reads curled up on the couch, sometimes reading aloud, sometimes quiet and focused. But the exercises? Not so much. She knows they’re next. She knows school is just around the corner. But, understandably, she doesn’t want to do homework on her vacation. And honestly? I get it.

☀️ Rest or Responsibility

How do you convince a child, especially one who’s still learning how to manage time and effort, to sit down and do schoolwork when summer is calling from the window? When the sun is out and sandals are by the door and the last thing they want is a pencil in their hand?

She’s young. She’s learning. And part of me knows the routines, the structure, the reinforcement of what she learned last year, all of that matters. Taking a long break from school can make it harder to jump back in. I get that. I respect it. But it doesn’t make it any easier for her.

Because summer feels like freedom. And I don’t want to take that away from her completely.

So I find myself walking that middle line, encouraging her without pressuring her, reminding her without nagging, trying to balance what she needs to do with what summer is meant to feel like. Some days we make a little progress. Other days? We let it go.

Because I want her to remember reading that book with joy. Not dreading the homework that came after.

We’re getting closer to the school year now, and we’ll get there. The book will be read, the exercises will get done, probably with a little grumbling, maybe with some coaxing, and definitely with encouragement.

But also… with breaks. With play. With snacks and sticker breaks and time outside. Because even when there’s work to be done, summer still deserves to feel like summer.

And that’s what we’re trying to hold on to, even with a pencil in hand.

Today’s post is a little different and very special to me.

An old friend of mine reached out. She’s been stuck in bed with a pinched nerve in her back (which sounds incredibly painful), and she said something that touched me more than I can say. She wrote:

“Can you write in your blog today? Something about you or something about a memory, or anything at all? I would love to have something to read from you while I’m stuck in bed.”

I haven’t written in a while. Not because I didn’t want to, but because, well… life. It gets loud and busy and chaotic in a soft, beautiful, exhausting way when you’re raising two kids. But knowing that someone, someone I care about, is looking forward to reading my words? That lit a spark in me again.

So this post is for her. And for anyone else who needs a little pause today, a gentle moment in between all the noise.

☀️ Life lately…

Summer has come and gone in a blur of heat and sunshine. We had an amazing trip to Greece, one of those rare, peaceful family getaways that actually felt like a break. Slow mornings, salty hair, beach walks, and memories we’ll carry for a long time.

Now we’re back home. Back to routines. Back to real life.

Back to my piles of laundry that never seem to end with two kids (how does such a tiny baby make this many outfit changes in a day?). We’re getting ready for my little one’s first birthday, which makes me want to cry and celebrate at the same time, and my oldest is heading back to school soon. We’re dancing between summer’s leftover heat and the whisper of autumn just around the corner.

It’s busy, yes. But it’s good. And when I stop in the middle of it all, a quiet nap time, a coffee that’s actually still warm, a friend’s message asking me to write, I remember how lucky I am to live this life.

So to my friend reading this: thank you, Liz! Thank you for asking me to write. For reminding me why I love doing this. And for giving me a reason to stop and reflect. I hope your back heals quickly and that this post brings you even a small smile today.

And to anyone else who made it this far, I hope you’re doing okay. I hope you’re finding little bits of beauty in your own version of “life lately.”

Until next time. 💛

Packing for a beach trip with two kids sounds like it should require a trailer. Add a husband into the mix, and it’s easy to feel like you need a full moving truck. But after a few trips of overpacking and digging through cluttered bags for the one thing I actually needed, I’ve started to figure it out: you don’t need everything, just the right things.

Here’s how I keep things light, practical, and stress-free when heading to the seaside with an 8-year-old, a 10-month-old, and one very helpful, slightly minimalistic husband.

 👗 Clothes: Simple, Swappable, Sand-Approved

We’re not doing laundry while we’re away, so I pack just enough to get us through, no more, no less. I go for clothes that can be mixed, matched, and worn more than once (because let’s be honest , half the time we’re all in swimsuits anyway).

For each kid:

• 5 outfits (lightweight and comfy)

• 2 swimsuits

• 1 long-sleeved layer for cooler evenings

• Pajamas

• A sun hat

• Sandals and water shoes

For me:

• 3–4 mix-and-match outfits 

• Swimsuits + cover-up

• One light sweater or jacket 

• 2 comfy dresses for dinners or beach walks

• Flip-flops and one pair of walkable shoes

For my husband:

• A few easy t-shirts and shorts

• Swim trunks

• One pair of jeans or pants for evening strolls

• A hoodie or light jacket 

• Flip-flops + sneakers

(He claims he could pack in five minutes and honestly, he’s not wrong.)

🧴 Toiletries: Family-Sized and Fuss-Free

One toiletry bag for the whole crew. I don’t overthink it, just the basics:

• Baby safe sunscreen (used by everyone)

• Toothbrushes + toothpaste

• Hairbrush + hair ties 

• One all purpose shampoo/body wash

• Diapers + wipes (for the baby, and for sandy hands too)

 • A small makeup bag with all of my makeup 

• Tiny first aid pouch (just in case)

If we forget anything? Beach towns always have a pharmacy.

🎒 Miscellaneous Must-Haves

This is the category where things can spiral, but I’ve learned to keep it tight:

   • Toys: One small pouch per child. My eldest brings a sticker book, a notebook, and a few pens. The baby gets a teether and one or two favorite toys.

   • Baby carrier (a lifesaver for beach walks when the stroller isn’t practical)

  • Travel stroller (if needed for naps or longer strolls)

 • Snacks for the trip and first day 

  • Beach bag with just the essentials: towels, sun hats, a few toys, water bottles, and lots of patience.

Packing light with kids doesn’t mean being unprepared. It means being smart about what actually gets used. A few outfits, a little bag of essentials, and space left over for sea shells, sticky hands, and sandy memories, that’s more than enough.

Summer is here, the sun is blazing, the days are long, and… I’m sweating before 9 a.m. With an energetic 8 years old and a curious 10 months old , summer survival isn’t just a goal, it’s a mission.

Don’t get me wrong, there are sweet moments: beach days, laughter, and those rare quiet sips of iced coffee. But let’s be real: when you’re a mom who secretly counts down to October, summer requires strategy. So here it is, my personal, slightly sunburned, Summer Survival Guide:

☀️ 1. Shade is Sacred

Whether it’s the park, the beach, or the backyard , find the shade and claim it like your sanity depends on it. Because it does. Pop-up tents, umbrellas, and even that one tree at the far end of the playground , all fair game.

🧊 2. Ice Everything

Frozen sour cherries , strawberries, chilled watermelon, icy lemon water, if it can go in the freezer, it probably should. Bonus: a frozen teether is a lifesaver for baby that seems to be constantly teething.

🎨 3. Mornings = Movement and Play

By 7:30 a.m., I’m out the door with the baby in the stroller, catching a bit of fresh air before the sun turns into fire. It’s a peaceful start , birds chirping, the world still yawning awake and it sets the tone for the day.

After that, we head back home. My eldest is already off to school (just two more weeks until she’s off until mid-September!), so the baby and I enjoy a bit of indoor play before her morning snack.

😌 4. Embrace the Siesta (Or at Least Pretend)

After lunch, it’s quiet time. Baby naps, big kid is still in school and I get 40-50 blissful minutes of sitting down. Sometimes I read. Sometimes I scroll. Sometimes I just sit and blink. That counts.

🥗 5. Cook Less, Chill More

Summer dinners = minimal stove time. Salads, sandwiches, grilled veggies, and yes, those baked eggplants when I get nostalgic. Bonus if someone else is grilling.

🧴 6. Sunscreen & Hats

I’ll admit I don’t always wear sunscreen myself, mostly because I plan our outings for before 9 a.m. or after 6 p.m., when the sun is gentler. But my girls? They’re always protected. A good mineral sunscreen, hats, and lightweight clothing are non-negotiable. We keep it simple and as fuss-free as possible. 

Summer has officially arrived, bringing with it those scorching, sun drenched days where stepping outside at noon feels like walking straight into an oven. The heat is intense! Kids, of course, love this time of year , three months of freedom, fun, and endless adventures. And truthfully, I do enjoy parts of it too.

There’s something special about beach days, the sound of the waves crashing rhythmically, the cold, refreshing embrace of the sea, and the moments of peace while lying on the sand, letting the sun dry the salt on your skin. And if there’s a good book involved… even better. The summer holidays offer a welcome break, a pause in the rush of daily life.

But beyond that, I’m an autumn soul.

And today, as I found myself slowly melting in the sun, I couldn’t help but drift into a daydream of October. Of brisk mornings and cool evenings. Of trees painted in gold, copper, and crimson. Of the comforting scent of firewood and roasted eggplants, a seasonal staple where I live. Of red sunsets and those perfect days when being outdoors is a pleasure from dawn till dusk.

But for now, it’s only June. Summer is in full swing, and the holidays are just around the corner. So I’ll do what I can: find some shade, pour a glass of iced lemonade, and soak in the good bits , while dreaming of crisp air and falling leaves.

This evening , my eldest daughter and I were sitting at the kitchen table and she was munching on some fresh tomatoes. She took a bite, and I could see that look on her face, the one that says, Wow, this tastes amazing. It brought back a flood of memories, and before I knew it, I was telling her about my childhood at my grandparents’ house.

I started by explaining how those tomatoes reminded me of summers spent in my grandparents’ garden. Back then, it wasn’t just about eating tomatoes, it was about picking them right off the vine, still warm from the sun. My great-grandpa would hand me a woven basket and send me out to collect the ripe ones. I loved that feeling of accomplishment as I carefully picked each tomato, along with cucumbers and peppers. Sometimes, I’d accidentally squish one, and that earthy, tangy smell would fill the air.

I told her about the chicken coop, too, how I used to go out every morning to gather eggs. I can still remember how the hens would cluck softly as I reached under them, carefully pulling out the warm eggs and holding them like they were tiny treasures. I’d bring them inside with this sense of pride, knowing they were going to be part of breakfast.

And then I couldn’t help but laugh when I thought of my great-grandma digging potatoes from the ground. I loved watching her gently pry them from the soil, dusting off the dirt, while I stood by, eager to help. She’d pull up some fresh onions too, and we’d take everything inside to start cooking.

I described how we’d fry those eggs with the freshly dug potatoes, the smell filling the whole house, and how we’d make a salad from the tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers I had picked. There was something about that meal, simple, but so full of flavor. It’s like you could taste the effort and love that went into every ingredient.

Then I told her about the bread. My great-grandma kept these big wooden boxes filled with flour, and I remember her scooping it out to knead the dough. She’d bake the bread outside on the old stove, and the whole yard would smell like fresh, warm bread. We’d break off pieces as soon as it was cool enough to handle, eating it while it was still steaming. That first bite was always the best, soft, warm, and just a little bit chewy.

Everything was homemade, homegrown, and I didn’t think much of it at the time because it was just our way of life. But now, looking back, I see how special it was, how real and connected it made me feel.

When I finished telling her all this, I didn’t expect much of a reaction, maybe just a smile or a nod. But she surprised me. She looked at me, still holding that half-eaten tomato, and said, “That’s how I want to live.”

Her words hit me right in the heart. I didn’t expect her to feel that way, especially growing up in a world where everything’s so fast and convenient. But there she was, seeing the beauty in slowing down and doing things yourself. It made me realize that those stories weren’t just memories, they were a part of me that I was passing on to her.

It’s funny how one simple bite of a garden tomato can start a conversation that brings generations closer together. And who knows, maybe one day, she’ll be telling her own kids about that night in the kitchen when a tomato turned into a story about love, family, and living simply.

There’s something magical about these almost summer mornings,  when the sun filters softly through the leaves, and the world feels like it’s taking a deep, contented breath. Today was one of those lovely days. 

We didn’t rush. The coffee was hot and unhurried, sipped slowly while the house stretched itself awake. Breakfast was simple but satisfying, fresh fruit, warm toast, and a little bit of quiet. The kind of morning where you notice the little things: the smell of cut grass drifting in through the window, the warmth of sunlight on your skin, and the sound of birds that you usually miss in the weekday scramble.

The kids ended up in the garden still in their pajamas, my eldest leading the way, my youngest bundled in my arms. We found a cozy spot on the patio couch, and for a while, it was all about being together. They flipped through a book, my eldest reading aloud while the baby took in every colorful page with wide-eyed wonder. The soft breeze, the birdsong, the green all around, it was the kind of moment that makes you stop and soak it all in.

Not every day is like this, but this morning was slow and golden and I’m holding onto that feeling.

Here’s to quiet starts, garden air, and finding peace in the rhythm of our days.