What Intentional Homemaking Means to Me

Before I became a mother, I thought being a homemaker sounded incredibly lame.

I had worked since I was fifteen. I was used to earning a paycheck, supporting myself, and measuring my contribution by the money I brought in. The thought of relying on someone else financially embarrassed me. It made me feel guilty, as though choosing to stay home meant I had stopped providing.

My idea of homemaking was not especially flattering, either.

I pictured sticky toys covered in cracker crumbs, children with faces and noses that desperately needed wiping, and a house that somehow smelled like baby powder, stale snacks, and yesterday’s laundry. I imagined having so little to do that you had to invent tasks just to keep yourself from going insane.

Then I became a mother.

I learned very quickly that children are not what distracts you from the work.

Children are the work.

And I do not mean that in a resentful way. I mean that raising them thoughtfully, loving them well, caring for their bodies and minds, and shaping the atmosphere in which they grow is real, demanding, meaningful work.

I have realized that providing for a family means so much more than bringing home a paycheck.

It means thoughtfully planning meals and trying to give my family healthful nutrition. It means organizing outings, creating traditions, and sometimes turning an ordinary afternoon into something spectacular simply because my child sees magic there.

It means looking at the world through their eyes and choosing to see the glitter and fairy dust with them.

When my two-and-a-half-year-old decides she is a princess, I will put her hair into a Cinderella bun every day for three weeks. I will find her a “diamond blue dress” and glass slippers so she can say “Bi Bah Boo,” twirl around in layers of tulle, and believe—completely—that she can become anything she wants.

Those moments may look small from the outside, but I do not think they are small at all.

They are part of how a child learns that her imagination matters. They show her that her mother sees her, listens to her, and is willing to enter her world.

“Join them in their world when they’re little so you’ll be welcome in their world when they get big.”
― L.R. Knost

Homemaking also means supporting my husband as he continues chasing his own dreams. It means encouraging him to build the businesses he desires so he can eventually spend more time at home with us. It means encouraging him to care for his body, push himself, feel good about himself, and stay strong enough to keep up with our children as they grow.

Sometimes it means simply making sure he has eaten three meals that day so he has the energy to keep showing up for our family and providing in the ways that come naturally to him.

I no longer see homemaking as a supporting role.

It is a central role in the ecosystem of a healthy family.

A home needs someone paying attention to what everyone requires—not only physically, but emotionally and spiritually. Someone needs to notice when a child has scraped her knee, dropped her blueberries into the toilet, needs help calming down, or is simply bored and desperate for something interesting to do.

These things do not appear impressive on a résumé, but they matter deeply to the people living inside the home.

Why I Created Hearth & Honey

I created Hearth & Honey because I want my children to have something meaningful to look back on.

I want them to have our traditions, routines, ideas, stories, recipes, lessons, and little pieces of wisdom recorded somewhere. I want them to understand what mattered to their mother, what I was learning, and what I hoped to give them.

I did not have a very hands-on childhood. A great deal of what I now know about motherhood and homemaking, I had to learn on my own or from people outside of my parents.

There have been many moments when I wished someone had simply shown me how to do something.

Not only how to cook a meal, organize a home, or establish a routine, but how to settle into motherhood. How to stop feeling as though I should constantly be accomplishing something more visible. How to accept the work in front of me and simply be present inside my own life.

The more I learn, the more I feel that it should be shared.

I want to preserve these lessons for my children and future generations, but I also want to make them available to other mothers like me—women who are learning as they go, struggling to simply be, or wishing they had a community of people willing to share what they have learned.

What I Want Home to Feel Like

I want my children to know home as the most comfortable place on earth.

Home may not always mean the physical house where we live. More than anything, I want home to mean our family as a whole.

I want them to know that their mother is here to support them, offer a shoulder to cry on, and give them a warm, snuggly, cozy place to land.

I want them to know their father will always offer his best advice, love them no matter what, and scare away the monsters in their closets—even when they are eighty years old.

And when home does mean our house, I want them to feel something as soon as they see it down the street.

I want them to know that inside those walls, they are safe, loved, and secure.

I want them to believe that anything can be said without judgment. We all make mistakes. That is part of why we are here. We are here to learn, to be foolish sometimes, to make choices that turn out to be wrong, and to continue growing through our own spiritual journeys.

I believe my children came to me for a reason.

I do not want to let them down.

That does not mean I will never make mistakes as a mother. I already have, and I will make many more. It means I want to remain willing to learn, apologize, change, and keep choosing them.

What Intentional Homemaking Is Not

Intentional homemaking is not perfection.

It is not an immaculate house, a handmade dinner every night, beautifully behaved children, or a mother who never feels tired, overwhelmed, irritated, or unsure.

It is not recreating someone else’s family, home, schedule, or traditions because they looked beautiful online.

It is not believing that every woman must structure her life exactly as I have structured mine.

To me, intentional homemaking simply means paying attention.

It means asking what my particular family needs and choosing my actions accordingly. It means understanding that the smallest repeated moments often shape a home more than the grand gestures do.

Sometimes intention looks like baking bread or planning a thoughtful family activity.

Sometimes it looks like ordering dinner, leaving the laundry unfinished, and sitting beside a child who needs me.

The intention matters more than the appearance.

What You Can Expect From This Site

Hearth & Honey is, in many ways, my personal journal to my children—one that happens to be available to the public.

I am not creating this site because I believe I know everything. I do not want to position myself as a perfect homemaker, an expert, a mentor, or the person with all the answers.

I am still learning.

We are all learning from one another’s experiences, and I am simply sharing mine.

Here, I will write about the traditions we create, the routines we try, the meals I make, the things I learn, the ideas that work, and the ones that do not. I will share the difficult lessons as honestly as I can, alongside the ordinary moments I want to remember.

Some readers may find something useful here. Others may simply enjoy following along.

Either is enough.

Hearth & Honey is a record of what I am learning as I try to build a life that feels safe, meaningful, warm, and deeply lived.

It is for my children first.

But there is room at the table for anyone who would like to join us.

With all of my love,

Mom