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This week was unique, filled with highs and lows. The sunsets have been just magical here in Texas lately; summer is so much milder than normal, which has been such a gift (take a look at our pasture view here). We've been spending evenings on the porch just soaking it all in, grateful for these gentler days.

This past week in a minute:

Hotel magic We had a mostly magical couple of days at the Gaylord Texan (I say mostly because Evie started with a sick day and only lasted about an hour). We get a free stay every year thanks to some credit card wizardry Jordan does, and it's become our little staycation tradition — honestly the only thing I feel up to with a newborn in tow.

The best part? This place was completely dead during the week. So peaceful! The waterpark there is pure magic, and I'd definitely recommend it if you're looking for something lowkey. Think lazy river for hours instead of crazy water slides ☀️ 🛟 😎

But can we talk about hotel magic as kids? I'm not even talking about fancy resorts like the Gaylord. I mean the simple stuff — those long hallways, the ice machines, the thrill of finding your room and opening it with that plastic key card. The beds that felt so different from home, those phones that could magically summon strangers to bring you fresh towels. Breakfast in bed!!!

I have such vivid, cherished hotel memories from childhood. What about you? What are some of your favorite hotel memories growing up?

Also, I've got quite the story to share later about our night there... still trying to piece together exactly what happened and why Jordan was yelling in Isla's face at 2:00 AM. Stay tuned for that little gem 😉

Another ER adventure. Somehow our sweet Evie ended up in the ER again. We have one of those collapsible play tunnels, and somehow it got slipped over a heavy bar stool (hiding it like a jack-in-the-box). Evie, being her curious self, was trying to get the tunnel off when she pulled the whole thing down (stool and all) right on top of her foot.

I swear that thing swelled up to golf ball size instantly. We were so certain she had broken something, even though little kids' bones are supposedly hard to break. I immediately pulled out my trusty homeopathy kit (that Jordan doesn't believe in one bit) and dosed her right away.

Jordan loaded her up for the hospital and the silver lining? Our ER doctor happened to be a really close friend working his only shift of the week. And praise God, nothing was broken! It ended up being a sweet two-hour daddy-daughter date instead of the disaster we'd imagined.

Feeling behind. Sometimes it feels a little hopeless, doesn't it? This is Evie's second random ER visit in just a couple of months. Add that to postpartum recovery, working through my TBI, and now I've got a virus on top of everything else. I feel so behind and honestly unequipped for any kind of work right now. (You can thank Jordan for editing this newsletter because it would just be a bowl of mush without him. Thanks, babe 😉)

But Sunday morning brought fresh mercies, and I'm just grateful. Grateful that we've built a life where we can drop everything immediately when our kids need us, without fear of not having enough. That's not something I take lightly.

I know this kind of chaos happens to everyone, and I also know we're more blessed than most to be able to absorb it. We have more help and support than many of you do. I can sleep in when I need it. Jordan isn't scrambling out the door at 7:00 AM to come back at 6:30 PM. What a gift.

What's helping lately. Still in constant rotation: my trusty red light, my Pranamat, and something new I'm trying… better electrolytes. I've stopped using the ones with questionable ingredients, tested some cleaner options (that tasted like clumpy disaster), and landed on these Potassium Cocktails for now. Great taste, cleaner ingredients, and recommended by our functional medicine friend.

Do you have any others I should test? Send me a note!

Fake Timeouts and Real Feelings

This is a Ducky story. No... not ducklings (ahem... dumplings). For those of you who are new here (welcome!), Ducky is our 6-year-old son, Declan. He was born with a rare genetic condition called 3p deletion syndrome. He is our angel man, full of life (scroll these old stories to see the cutest little man ever). He changed our lives immensely and honestly shifted our whole family closer to God. He's doing so well lately, getting really big (we finally got a lift for him a few weeks ago 🙌).

But maybe this isn't as much about Ducky as it is about something we've learned about recognizing childhood trauma, even the kind that happens in loving families.

When Ducky was born, Jordan and I practically lived at the NICU for over a month. Days, nights, weekends. We were there navigating all the unknowns of his diagnosis and doing the hands-on work to get him ready to come home. It felt like survival mode at times, and honestly, it was.

But Lacey paid a price we didn't fully see at the time.

She was only two, and suddenly her whole world shifted. She couldn't visit the NICU because of restrictions. Even though we're blessed with grandparents who love her deeply and stepped in to care for her, it was still a trauma. Her mama and daddy disappeared into this scary place she couldn't understand, where her baby brother (she hadn’t met) was being kept.

We've had to learn to be really intentional about acknowledging that season and its impact on her.

Here's an embarrassing confession: When Lacey was about 4 or 5, we used to fake punish Ducky. We'd "reprimand" him for little things, put him in pretend "timeout" because Lacey felt like she was the ONLY one who ever got in trouble. And honestly? She had a point. Due to his developmental delays, Ducky genuinely wasn't getting into the same kind of mischief she was. To her little heart, it felt like he was the golden child who could do no wrong.

So we'd stage these silly discipline moments just so she could see that Ducky had rules too. Looking back, it feels absurd, but it helped her feel like the playing field was more even.

The bigger lesson: Even in families where children are deeply loved and wanted, trauma can happen. Birth trauma, medical trauma, sibling displacement — these things leave marks, even on little hearts. Our job isn't to prevent every hard thing (impossible), but to recognize when it happens and speak truth and healing into those tender places.

We've learned to regularly check in with Lacey about that time. We acknowledge how hard it must have been. We remind her that even though our attention was divided, our love for her never was. And we watch for ways those early feelings might still show up.

Have you noticed any tender spots in your children from difficult seasons? Sometimes the bravest thing we can do as parents is simply name what happened and remind them they're seen, loved, and not forgotten.

 — Tabitha Paige, Author/ Illustrator, Speech Therapist & Mom

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