It was one of those days where the best of my mama intentions stood no chance against sleepless babies and mess-loving toddlers. I totally slacked off on planning projects for the boys this week, so when Micah asked for one, I offered him the first thing that came to mind: read a book about a dachshund called "Pretzel" and make homemade pretzels. It seemed easy enough until I remembered that I'm an absolute failure at most kitchen projects involving dough and that Hudson was on a sleep strike that day (in my defense however, I didn't know that at the time).
But persist we did.
Which ended up like this.
I had read a post on a photography blog earlier that day that talked about storytelling through photography. Not just trying to get the perfect portrait but capturing the rawness of real life, messy details and all. So I took a few steps back and got this as well.
My tiny kitchen with every available inch of counter space occupied. My mismatched cabinets. My pretzels rising on the counter (which, I might add, was an absolute waste of time because they got stuck and I ended up having to retwist them again after scraping them off with a spatula). My boys coated in flour & dough, reveling in the aftermath of "washing their hands" (aka- taking an entire bath in the sink). My kitchen towels on the floor, mopping up the puddles left from said kitchen bath. The only thing that's missing from this shot is Hudson strapped to my front in the Ergo. And if you're not good a rolling dough to begin with, why in the world would you attempt it with an ill-tempered infant attached to you? Questions I really should think through.
And this, friends, is my life.