I am home.
My tattoo has never felt more true. Nearly 43 and remarried to my absolute soulmate, living in a full house with five kids and two dogs… I finally feel like I’ve arrived. I’m living intentionally because I’m with someone who keeps my feet on the ground, finds tiny ways to bring romance into everyday life, and helps me simplify what actually matters.
For years I felt like I was weathering a storm and tiptoeing through life. Now my biggest challenge is having my mind and my soul catch up to the peace of my surroundings.
Blending our family didn’t happen overnight. Ben and I tried to rush it at first and quickly learned we needed to pump the brakes, for the kids’ sake. So we did it slowly and carefully.
We lived in our separate houses at first. Then we used the second apartment in Ben’s duplex as our kid-free weekend spot.
We renovated my house to fit us all part-time. And finally… we found our forever home.
This was my fourth move, and by far the most stressful. Buying, selling, renovating and moving seven people is a massive project… especially when outside stresses pile on at the same time. But we made it, and now we’re in our own little slice of paradise.
We had a very specific wishlist: a separate garage, privacy, a great yard with a pool, and a layout that would actually work for our large, loud family. But the moment we walked through this house, we both turned to each other and said, “I love it.”
I’ve never enjoyed cleaning, cooking and resting as much as I do here. It feels like the house was waiting for us.
The place has its own history. The sellers before us neglected it… they’d bought it five years earlier, then had to move abroad for work and it sat empty. The homeowners before them, though, had adored the place. They poured time and money into the landscaping and interior renovations, and you could still feel that care under the dust.
So we scrubbed, cleared cobwebs, tamed the landscaping and brought it back to life. It’s like the house exhaled, happy to be lived in again, to hold the sounds of children running and the clink of dinner plates and late-night laughter.
Ben and I aren’t chasing a life of endless travel. We’re homebodies. We want a life that’s simple and beautiful: cooking, making the house ours, and keeping the people we love closest. That feels like everything.
This house isn’t a finish line, it’s a place to keep doing the quiet, important work of family life. It’s where we’ll mess up, apologize, celebrate, and grow. I don’t have grand plans to escape it; I want to live fully inside it. To cook, to make a mess, to hide in the quiet corners with a book and a coffee, and to keep building a home that’s honest and warm. If this chapter has taught me anything, it’s that the place you choose to settle matters… but the people you choose to keep close matter so much more.
Welcome home.