Here’s what you need to know:
I’m Rachel + I want to take your photos.
One of my favorite professors in college once told me that you can tell a lot about who a person is by the books on their bookshelves. For me, when I walk into someone’s home I gravitate towards all the photos that are hung on the walls, thoughtfully placed in picture frames, displayed for anyone who is special enough to enter their home to see. Pictures obviously tell stories of moments that would otherwise be lost if not captured. But for me, they also convey deep emotion of what was being felt within those moments. I’m a feeler. I like to feel.
I’m not a regular mom. I’m a murder-loving, Real Housewives-binge-watching, holding-up-like-pants-with-no-belt kind of mom.
I married my college sweetheart. We met in our dorms + he carried my groceries up one day. The rest was history. We liked each other so dang much, we had a baby… in college…our senior year. Instead of making out in between classes, we were taking turns watching our son so that we both could finish our degrees. We beat a ton of statistics + ended up succeeding more than we ever could have without being young parents. We now have a beautiful daughter + a weird looking mini poodle named Rockefeller who completes our crazy little family. We, by no means have our shit together, but together we clean all the shit. Wait, that’s not how that quote goes but you get my drift?
I’m a collector.
I always have been. I used to collect stamps, Pokemon’ cards, tiny spoons from all the states I have visited around the US. Now, I’m a collector of memories. My children have enhanced my passion to collect even more. Because of them, I know what is worth collecting + what is not. Also, because of the show Hoarders, that show has me shooketh.
I’m a middle child.
I was born smack dab in the middle between two of the most incredible sisters a mom + dad could create for each other. I am so beyond blessed that after all the years of stealing each other’s clothes, blaming each other for everything + even giving each other a couple of black eyes — we are best friends. My older sister Meg has two son’s who I love like my own children. We were pregnant together + her son + my daughter were born 7 days apart. Something that connects us in such a special way for life. I love that my kids + my sister’s kids have each other to walk this earth. My younger sister Mel pushes me to be the best version of myself every single day. She may be my younger sister, but I look up to her in every way possible.
Why should you let me third wheel with you?