witching hour

In our house, the afternoon hours are the most intense. The house is in shambles, there is dinner to be prepped, the baby needs constant entertainment and the toddler is often inexplicably naked.

But I know in no time at all I’ll be out of these intense parenting years, and I’ll one day come to think of these times through rose coloured glasses. I’ll long for the days of pottering around in the garden, of watching the toddler sing and dance to the music in her head, of the baby learning to roll and still chucking up over everything, of kitchen dance parties to terrible nineties pop, quick and easy dinners and of keeping a watchful eye on the front door…for reinforcements to arrive. I know I’ll want to remember the laughter (often maniacal) and the tears (from all of us).

This is our afternoon, and I’m guessing yours looks something like it too. Unfiltered, unposed and definitely unstyled but full of life and joy. With a hopeful sense of messy solidarity I present to you our witching hour.