Coucou c'est moi!

Well, I said I'd never do such a narcissistic thing as have my own blog...and here I am. I also said I'd never own one of those ridiculous jogging strollers which I associate with too much spandex, sparkling white running shoes and pink manicures. And you'll never guess what emerged from the garage for our Sunday afternoon walk. No spandex though, I promise. Just jeans and my birkis, and two happy kiddos.

So yes, here I am trying to type as my husband keeps peeking over my shoulder. I'm trying to explain to him that this is private, which I realize sounds somewhat ridiculous considering that I'm about to publish this for all of you lovely internet folks.

Why am I doing this? Hopefully the answer will come to me in a few months, when I look back on brilliant posts viewed by millions. Hmm, not so likely me thinks. Perhaps I'm here because my friends' blogs, particularly those who live far, have made me laugh and feel connected despite the great distances that exist between us. And also because I'd like to record what goes on in this small suburban house. We all have a story, and I'd like to tell mine. I am fairly quiet, and reserved, yet my life as a full-time mom and artist is busy, and I am trying to think of this blog simply as a digital version of my journal with it's tattered cloth cover. A recording of the happy chaos that is motherhood, my home, my drafting table...I won't talk about the garage.

And here are some photos of our year so far:

father-son study session


3 seconds before Kieran licked the camera


presidential inauguration



Maia hard at work making valentine's

good old potato stamps!

my touch of red, which I just finished: "Ginger & Poppy"