the journey to hiraeth

On this winding path of motherhood, I’ve learned to let go of the pressure to fit into one mold. I’m not a crunchy mom, and I’m not fully silky either. I don’t live by a schedule, but I live by love. I’m what some would call a Scrunchy Type B Mom — and I’ve never felt more at home in that space.

I breastfeed my babies and get them vaccinated. I use disposable diapers, but I also make homemade meals — though there are definitely frozen chicken nuggets in my freezer for those “survival” nights. I don’t give my kids juice, candy is rare, but birthday cake? Always yes.

I loosely plan, but I don’t obsess over routines. My house is often a beautiful mess — disorganized to an outsider, but I know where everything is (unless my toddler got to it first). And that’s okay with me.

I’m not aiming for perfect. I’m aiming for present.

My version of motherhood is full of intention, not intensity. It’s slow mornings, toddler messes, mismatched socks, and heart-full evenings. I choose presence over pressure, and intuition over instruction manuals.

Because I’m not raising robots.

I’m raising wildflowers.

Free, unique, deeply loved wildflowers.

And in that, I’ve found my own hiraeth — my soul’s sense of home.