I was talking to my therapist a while ago about the struggle I have with my body. I told her how uncomfortable it is to be in my body most of the time. I saw her jot something down, then she got up and handed me a blue post it note that read, ‘this is my body right now.’
I still have that post it note.

I have spent years struggling with weight gain and binge eating. It started when I was 21 years old and I found myself eating my way through a hard marriage. It continued into my second marriage, this time playing out through each pregnancy. I gained 60 pounds in my first pregnancy. I would mindlessly eat ice cream until I was gut punched back into reality every time I stepped on the scale by the doctor’s office. “You’re gaining too much weight. It’s going to be harder for you to have a natural birth if you keep going at this rate.” The doctor would tell me consistently. There was something about the words, “at this rate”, that made me feel even more out of control and anxious.
I always left the office with my head down, carrying an emotional backpack full of self hatred, fear and empty promises for better eating.

After each pregnancy, I told myself, “I’m going to lose all the baby weight and get back to myself.” It worked some of the time and other times I would wake up knee deep in pasta and wonder how the hell I let myself get here.
I remember I was out shopping with a client for bathroom tiles. After a few hours of shopping, I got back to my car and realized I was starving. All I had packed was a small ziploc bag of “party style” mixed nuts. I poured the bag into my mouth. There was no party and I was still hungry. I used my hand to scramble on the floor looking for something to eat and found some leftover cookies. Thank G-d my kids were not skilled enough to get every cookie in their mouth.
I was sitting in the front seat of my car eating small cookies, one by one, off the floor of my car.
“This is why I’m fat. This is why I will never be attractive. I’m eating cookies off the floor of a dirty car like a caged monkey. There’s something wrong with me.”

I got to the point where I felt insecure all the time. Every time I got dressed, it was a disaster. Every time I saw myself in a picture, it ruined my night. I spent so much time and energy ripping myself apart that I felt hopeless. I considered myself invisible because of my weight.
I hid my body under black clothing.
I hid my ideas under silence.
I hid myself under the belief of being undeserving.

I started intuitive eating 2 years ago. I worked with Soshy Adelstein who dramatically helped me with my habits around food and binge eating.
It’s a complicated thing, intuitive eating.
How do we learn to understand our bodies and what it needs?
How do we learn to listen?
It’s easier to follow a way of eating because there’s relief in a solution.
It’s so much harder to let go and trust that you can figure it out.
It takes time.
It’s been 2 years and I’m still a beginner.

The treasure that I’ve found in this process is how I feel about myself. I have slowly come to a place where I feel deserving to BE HERE. I spent so much time holding onto this idea of ‘getting back to myself,’ that I had disconnected from my actual self. It was the thin Chana that mattered. It was the thin Chana who knew how to have fun. It was the thin Chana who people liked. I’ve spent so much time telling myself I don’t matter because of my body size, sometimes it feels hard to forgive myself.

“Being kind to yourself is one of the greatest kindnesses.” – Charlie Mackery

I am slowly learning to treat myself with compassion rather than judgment. I haven’t been on a diet in 2 years, I am more at peace with myself than I’ve been in a long time and I also still want to be thin. They both exist. The difference has been in the compassion. I have expectations and hopes for my body but I choose not to hate myself until I get there. I no longer torture myself for not having the body I “should have.”
This is my body right now.
This body is doing a hell of a lot of great things for me right now and for that I am eternally grateful.

@ezwass and I went away for a few days to celebrate being married 10 years. It’s never easy getting away and always feels like an impossible thing to do. I left the house with this frantic energy, like a smurf with a to do list and so little time. I was excited it was happening but unable to get my head out of my phone. First it was an instacart order for eggs and seltzer. Then it was figuring out how my kids were getting to and from birthday parties. Then I saw an ad for new linen. Then I saw an add for feather pillows. Then I wanted @ezwass to stop talking so we can get pictures of us “getting away.” Then I needed mascara to look good in our pictures of “getting away.” It was a hard reality to face being that I pride myself on being present and unattached to my phone. I’m usually the one reprimanding @ezwass for not being able to put the phone away. I’m usually doing this with a self righteous attitude. Thank Gd @ezwass was there to gently help me off the high horse I was sitting on and happily remind me that we all struggle with being present. @ezwass thank you for keeping me humble, always.

We spent a lot of time reading and drinking coffee by the beach and it was as wonderful as it sounds. At one point a pack of teenage girls sat on the lounge chairs next to us. Then I started to be invaded by their conversations.

“I cant my believe you’ve been to Dubai, I want to go to Dubai. Thats crazy. “

Is it?

“If I don’t like jump into the water right now I’m literally going to have a heart attack.”

Ok, I’m waiting.

“You’re blocking the sun, only one leg is getting tanned.”

There’s less skin cancer for the other leg.

“I put the tanning oil all over my face, I like don’t even care if I break out.”

So why are you talking about it?

I turned to @ezwass and pleaded with him, “if we don’t find somewhere else to sit, my ears are going to start bleeding.”

We found a new place to sit. This time it was next to a woman who spent her poolside time on the phone declaring how she’s “taking calls all day.”

@ezwass thank you for knowing the dislike I had to that repeated statement and understanding my level of intolerance. I truly felt understood.

We had many conversations together. @ezwass asked me, “what are the core values you want our kids to grow up with and have in their own lives?”

“I just don’t want them to be assholes,” was my response.

“I think you should keep in mind, these are things we want to be able to discuss with our kids. Can I sum that up to be kind, be curious, be present ?”

“As long as they’re not assholes.” I responded again.

@ezwass thank you for your insights on all things life related, all of the time.

It’s been 10 years since we got married and we went away for a few days to celebrate that. We took the time to remember that our relationship is going to be the one to hold us always. It’s so easy to primarily focus on the relationships we have with our children because they require our immediate attention.

The reality is, our kids are only ours for a short period of time. We have about 18 years to teach them right from wrong and how to not be assholes, then they’re on their own. But our spouse, they’re the one who’s going to be there when we marvel at the speed that life has passed us by, and say “are we still talking about this?” They’re the one who’s going to be there to say, “I still see you.”

I pray that I’m lucky enough for that moment with @ezwass.

It’s been 10 years and I love you.

I’m noticing that the year of 2021 is bringing along the aftermath of its predecessor 2020.
I, with the rest of the world, spent the better half of 2020 locked up inside because of a pandemic.
My reaction to being locked up was spending the better half of 2020 measuring myself by what I didn’t have rather than on what I do have.
This meant that everywhere I turned, someone was always ‘jumping online’ to sell me something and I was here to consume it all, like a panicked Sebastian looking for Ariel.
I felt like I needed better lounge clothing. A better coffee thermos. My cleaning products needed to be completely vegan. I needed new baking pans because I became a baker. A new apron. There was always a sale for limited stock – only for the next 24 hours. It didn’t feel like there was any time to be doing anything else in life.
I needed a new ‘radiance’ oil because my skin will thank me later.
My skin hasn’t thanked me yet, unless it came in the form of 3 sun spots that needed to be removed.

The feeling of constantly chasing the next thing to bring me life’s wonders has left me feeling more empty than anything else. Now that life has moved forward in this new reality, this bottomless barrel feeling is coupled with the stress of trying to work in an environment that consistently stops and starts, due to some type of exposure, and the feeling of making up for lost time. The combination leaves me standing in one place and staring at a wall for long periods of time due to a mental overload.

So I decided to put myself on a budget. The biggest motivator when making this decision was seeing that @ezwass developed a twitch in his left eye. If we’re being honest, I waited until day 3 of his uncontrollable twitch to start thinking about implementing change.

I don’t think the budget will affect my kids that much. I strongly believe in their ability to find the opportunities to make as many requests as humanly possible.
Like every day during carpool.
“Can you skip this song?”
“Leave this song, it’s a good one.”
“No wait, I thought it was another song, can you skip this song?”
“Can you make it louder?”
“Can you open the windows?”
“Can you close that window, I’m cold!”
“Can you put on the Greatest Showman playlist on Spotify?”
(No.)

I want to turn around and shout,
“Do you know what it was like to be a passenger in my father’s car? The windows were not allowed to be open because he wasn’t providing AC to the streets. There was no music. There was no complaining. And if you didn’t like the smell of cigars, hold your breath.

Instead I usually turn and around and say, “This is the song we’re listening to now. If you don’t like it, sit through it. It will be over in less than 3 minutes.” Then I rest my head on the steering wheel and weep, because conscious discipline is exhausting and I only implement it 1% of the time.

The decision to put myself on a budget, for those of you who are more woke than me, shop with intention, is a starting point. It’s not going to take away from the laundry list of other mental health hazards life in 2021 has to offer. It’s my small way of creating a little more sense of peace in my life and to help me slightly shift my focus. My goal is to spend the better half of 2021 putting down the self measuring tape and truly see what and who I am surrounded by.
Life in 2021 is looking up.

The responsibility of naming a child has always felt really big to me.
This is the name that is going to represent the child and how they’re going to be known.
I want to get it right, but what the hell do I know ?

When I gave birth to our daughter we were sitting in the hospital together going through our options before @ezwass went to officially name her. We knew Leah would be part of the name, after @ezwass grandmother and my great grandmother, and we were trying to figure out the first name.
I wanted Ilana. I thought it was really pretty and feminine but @ezwass wasn’t connecting to Ilana.
He kept asking me, “What’s the meaning of Ilana? It means a tree, how does that connect to us?”
( If @ezwass knew I would one day give myself the title of #crazyplantlady, maybe he would have felt differently. )
And I just kept answering him, very slowly like when trying to convince a toddler to share a cookie with you, “because I like it.”

“What about Eliana? Eliana means G-d answered me.”
And I looked at him and thought, how did you know?

Here I am at the age of 25 years old, two and a half years after getting divorced with the belief that failure was my path in life. I remember being 22 years old, separated at the time, crying to myself and to G-d, asking for peace. I was asking for the better end of this experience because I was too young and insecure to handle what this meant for me. I felt unworthy and craved acceptance. My solution at the time was to hide. I thought hiding would make it go away, but it was all still there to greet me when I showed myself again.
Now it’s two and a half years later and I’m holding a baby girl. I didn’t think it was possible for me to produce anything female after growing up with 6 brothers.
Here I am, at 25 years old, after getting divorced, after hiding myself, after starting to find myself, holding my baby girl, sitting next to the man I love, feeling accepted.
If G-d could speak, it felt like He had spoken and He answered me. He answered me through @ezwass.


Today Eliana Leah is 9 years old. (kah)

I spent the week preparing for her birthday. Naturally I asked @dlnew to bake a cake because my mother gave me many skills but cooking is most definitely not one of them #loveyouingrid.
After asking @dlnew to bake a cake, these are the type of questions I asked her.

What is icing? What is frosting? Why do we need both? What are we using it for? Does it make sense for the frosting to be watery? I bought the frosting but it’s not kosher, do they make kosher frosting?
Are you making a cake or a cookie ? It turns out, she made a cake made out of a giant cookie and I am very grateful.
I tried making it easier for myself by ordering most of what I needed through instacart and instead received a lot of ‘replacement items’ which needed to be returned. So my intention for convenience turned into me standing in line by publix watching a stranger take her unwashed finger and pick something out of her teeth, all while wearing a mask.
It’s definitely safer to stay home.

Happy Birthday my first child, I love you.

This was the year I started exercising every day.

This was the year I needed to get the hell out of my house every day.

This was the year I biked along the beach every morning.

This was the year a british lady called me a fat idiot ( if you want to know more about that experience, I have a detailed account of it on my blog. The title of the post is “You Fat Idiot.” )

This was the year I cried my eyes out from feelings of exhaustion.

This was the year I thought I would break over and over again and here I am seemingly not in pieces.

This was the year I stepped away from socializing and now I can’t see myself stepping back in.

This was the year I started to heal from past wounds of failure ( have we ever discussed my first marriage and divorce? No? Okay. )

This was the year I baked chocolate chip cookies with tahini and halva.

This was the year I ate tahini and halva by the spoonfuls.

This was the year I spent most of my mornings watching the sun come up.

This was the year I addressed my fear of not being enough over and over again.

This was the year I watched my parents feel isolated and heartbroken.

This was the year I felt far away from people I used to feel close to.

This was the year we drove our minivan to Canada to spend the summer by the lake.

This was the year I promised never to drive our minivan up to Canada.

This was the year that felt like time was standing still.

This was the year I realized how quickly life passes us by.

This was the year I created some beautiful moments in my home.

This was the year I renovated two bathrooms and I feel proud of myself.

This was the year an old man coughed in my face because I was biking on the walking path.

This was the year I learned assholes still exist in a pandemic.

This was the year I watched skin care tutorials for too many hours.

This was the year I bought too many skin care products and I’m thinking of making a garage sale. Who’s coming?

This was the year @ezwass worked from home and first we loved it, then I hated it and now I miss him.

This was the year I started telling my kids, “because I said so.” It’s so unwoke and I love it with all my heart.

This was the year we made Pesach on our own, without family.

This was the year I saw that we can do it.

This was the year I used my phone too much.

This was the year I started having fake conversations on vintage phones.

This was the year I accepted parts of myself I used to hide.

This was the year that people starting wearing bandanas as masks, G-D BLESS AMERICA AND ALL ITS IDIOTS.

This was the year I named caterpillars Lysol and Rona.

This was the year I lost my mind.

This was the year I feared death.

This was the year I read a book called falling apart.

This was the year I fell apart.

This was the year I put myself back together.

This was the year of 2020.

My birthday has always been a bigger deal to me than it has been for everyone else in my life. My parents always tried their best. Sometimes they bought a cake, sometimes they bought a present, sometimes they said happy birthday, sometimes they remembered and sometimes I reminded them a week later.
I don’t blame them for not knowing that I always wanted a fabulous Prince Ali parade through Agrabah in order to feel like my birthday was celebrated – I was asking a lot from them. I wanted them to make a big deal over my english birthday and an even bigger deal on my Hebrew birthday. My Hebrew birthday is more meaningful because of the spiritual connection that it brings. This is the day G-d chose to bring  me into this world and I am thankful to be given this time. And shouldn’t the rest of you feel the same way?

What I’ve come to learn over the years is to create the day that I want. If I want the day to feel special, I am going to make sure I have a crown or a sash draped across my body so strangers and friends are forced to say, “happy birthday!” no matter how uncomfortable they feel by my childish decisions. I’ve spent so many years trying to justify why my birthday is a big deal and the answer is, I don’t know.
It just is.

I’m going to tell you about my 20th birthday.
I was in Israel for the year and I flew into Miami for my brother’s wedding. I arrived the night of my birthday and my mother came to pick me up. I was walking out of the terminal like Sandra Bullock
from Miss Congeniality, all wind blown and ready to for my celebration.
My mother embraced me, I embrace her and then there was this moment. I’m looking at her with wide expectant eyes and she’s looking at me with squinted, quizzical eyes.
“What’s wrong chana?”
“Do you know it’s my birthday.”
“Of course I know! I know! Look what we have for you.”
Okay, crisis averted. That was close. This was almost a really shitty night.
I walk with my mother to the back of the car and she opens the trunk. I see a balloon that says ‘happy birthday.’ The balloon had no life left inside of it because it was one of those balloons that you get from CVS, that you blow up on your own. Clearly not much effort was put into it. I was happy it said ‘happy birthday,’ it just didn’t look much like a balloon. It looked more like a string with a hazelnut attached to the end of it.
“Happy birthday chana!”
Yes happy birthday to me.

Now I’m going to tell you about my 34th birthday.
In the morning, my family and I went to the beach at sunrise for a photo shoot with @rachelfelligphotography. She was able to capture beautiful moments in between my kids complaining about how cold it was.  @rachelfelligphotography said it perfectly, “They’re like iguanas, as soon as it gets cold, they start falling out of trees.” Yes they completely fell apart in temperatures below 60 degrees.
We had coffee, we posed, we tried to relax and we watched the sun come up.
My next stop was the pool for some laps and then I sat down to write.
I had lunch delivered by a friend. I said Tehillim. I gave Tzedakah. I had family come over to spend time together.

The rest of the day was spent cleaning up from the weekend, preparing lunches and uniforms for my kids, trying to toilet train my toddler and carpooling my kids around town because they’re young and think I’m an uber driver. I’m looking to invest in a plexi glass divider for my minivan to benefit from their delusion.
The day was perfectly set in reality and at the same time felt special enough to feel celebrated.

I’m not going to let myself think about how I resisted cooking every time my kids told me they were hungry.
I don’t cook on birthdays, I’m too busy celebrating.
I’m realizing now their requests for meals came from a genuine place, they spent most of the day watching movies and eating crumbs from crackers. I do feel some guilt feel but not enough to have done anything differently.

Here’s my birthday wish to you ( today is the Hebrew so it matters; )
I wish for you to find a way to live your life that feels true to who you are and leaves less room for regret and guilt. Thia year should be the year that’s memorable for the leasons you’ve learned and the laughs you’ve shared. And above all, good health for you to continue growing and living a long and full life.
( Amen )

My english birthday is January 13. I accept balloons in all shapes and sizes. I’m just putting it out there.

I made the decision 4 years ago not to post my kids on social media, primarily my Instagram account because I don’t have Tik Tok, I grew out of Facebook and for whatever reason I don’t have the capacity to maintain my Linked In account.
It wasn’t a hard decision for me, I didn’t share so much of them to begin with and after having my 3rd baby I just decided I’m going to keep my account all about me – I’m wildly entertaining and narcissistic – and I will let them make that decision for themselves when they get older.

Here I am 4 and a half years later, pregnant (Thank Gd) and I’ve been “deciding” whether or not to share the news with you. I didn’t want to make an accouncement about it but I also didn’t want to hide it either – both of these options didn’t feel right to me. So I’ve been sitting here, in the in between.

Should I share this news with you all? Should I continue doing what I’ve been doing? Which has been taking pictures of myself in swimming caps to avoid the belly area.

Here’s what’s holding me back;

My kids, my husband (you guys have met @ezwass) and our family’s life together feels like something that is ours. That’s how I want to keep it. I like the intimacy of it and I don’t want that to change.

What is pushing me to share?

I’m excited about it. It’s a really important part of my life and letting a whole pregnancy go by without addressing it in some way doesn’t feel honest to me.

So here’s what I decided to do,
I’m going to write a blog post about my dilemma over whether or not I want to share that I am in fact pregnant and feeling extremely thankful.

When I was growing up, my exposure to nature started with birds of paradise and ended with body gas. My mother always had a lot of sticks and branches coming out of large floor vases because it gave a corner the same character a plant did without having to do the work of keeping anything alive.

There was a short period where I used silk flowers but it never felt right and always felt like a scam.  My first house plant was a banana leaf tree which was trending at the time in 2014. It has beautiful, vibrant leaves and is very tropical. I bought it enthusiastically and over time, the leaves were turning yellow and wilted, the soil was growing earthly babies and I was overwhelmed because my background in plants consisted of silk and faux.

So bring in my mother in law.  On one of her visits, she told me everything I was doing wrong with the plant. There wasn’t enough drainage, I was over watering and it needed less sun exposure.
I couldn’t really take in her feedback because I was laser focused on how I insulted I was. I wasn’t able to listen to her wisdom about my plant because I was hell bent on being insulted by her honesty and the overall knowledge she had, that I lacked. Looking back, I realize how much energy I put into trying not to make her happy.

Moving forward to a few years down the line and after no maturity –

I bought my second ever house plant, the fiddle leaf. I was told it would be hard to keep up and that it needs a lot of care – to which I responded, “I can and I will take care of this plant. I need to prove it to my mother in law.” They didn’t know who my mother in law was so they weren’t as supportive as I would have liked them to be.

I chose the corner with just the right amount of sunlight and I watered and love the crap out of that tree. I was determined for the plant to thrive under my care. The Fiddle survived and thrived through many more visits with my mother in law. When she felt those lush leaves and said, wow this is doing well, I casually replied, yes I think so too. Did the Fiddle bring us closer?

My love peaked when I started taking clippings from plants my mother in law had in her room for over 20 years. I brought them home and watched their roots grow and eventually replanted them to continue growing and making more plant babies. It is so rewarding to take a small branch and watch it grow into something so much more. I have truly come to love plants and be surrounded by them, they are living beings that grow and bring life to my home.

I’m here to tell you that you too can become a #crazyplantlady. All you need is a mother in law who is better than you and a high dose of insecurity to motivate you. You can do it!

Here’s Where I’m holding

So let’s start with an introduction. My name is Chana, I’m an interior designer based here in Miami. I have a wonderfully down to earth husband who is full of love and blunt observations that my sensitive self is still adjusting to and together we have 4 beautiful children. For as long as I can remember, I’ve struggled with self doubt. I have this amazing ability to find ways I could have done things better almost all of the time. I find myself falling into the comparison hole of hell which leads to me feeling like who I am right now is not enough. This brings me to why I’m sitting here telling you about my relationship with Instagram.

My relationship with Instagram has always been one with a lot of mixed feelings, there is so much to love and so much I want to avoid.
I love all the inspiration I get from scrolling through designers feeds. I love how accessible designers have become through this platform.
Now I can see a plethora of pictures, behind the scenes footage and their inspiration all with just a delicate flick of my finger. I love watching small businesses grow. I love seeing my family from around the world living their best life – I’m talking about you @chanalemusic. There are so many beautiful ways to connect and support those around us.
And yet I find myself consistently feeling depleted and unworthy when participating on Instagram. I find it hard to watch others “do it” so naturally without over thinking every variable. My first down fall into the comparison hole of hell usually starts with watching other designers creating these magnificent interiors and then thinking to myself, “What the hell am I doing here documenting the life of a caterpillar?” It feels like everyone is accomplishing goals and reaching for the stars, while I’m reaching for my third cup of coffee. Another huge step into the hole of hell is when I see others being mentioned and tagged for things I want to be mentioned and tagged for. Sometimes it feels like I’m Tom Hanks from Cast Away sitting with my soccer ball Wilson, whispering, “They will find us. Our time is coming.”

Recently I’ve been feeling like something is lacking with my content on Instagram and I’m not sure why.
Is my content lacking who I really am?
Do I provide enough design inspiration and finished spaces?
Has the content about my desperate need to hold on to the past been worn out through my use of a vintage phone?
What am I trying to share?
What do I want to say?

What’s important to me ?

These questions kept circling around in my head so I decided to tap out for a little bit to figure out what I want to share and what I want your experience to be.

Here’s what I’ve figured out – have in mind this is always changing because I’m a human trying my best;

I’m passionate about design so I’m going to share as much of it as I can because I believe you can benefit from it.

Sometimes I’m going to feel inspired and sometimes I’m going to feel empty.

My content will always be more intentional because I’m an intentional person and that’s okay.

I want you to feel inspired and joyful when you engage with me on this platform.

My message will reach those who connect with it and those are the people I want included in my Instagram tribe.

It’s okay if I don’t have an Instagram tribe. My value is more than that.

I do best when I look within myself for direction.

I’m working on honoring what I have to offer. Sometimes it feels quieter and less noticeable than everything else out there in this world and those are the times I’m going to commit to my offering with self compassion instead of self criticism.

Side note, how was your Chanukah?
Mine had some special moments but it was mostly hard. I spent most days preparing for the night. Where are we lighting? Who are we having over? What am I cooking? The night always ended with my kids crying because they didn’t get what they wanted or they did get what they wanted, but it wasn’t enough of what they wanted.

“Mommy, can I have….”
My youth? My zest for life? My entire being?
You got it sweet child of mine.

Welcome to my process

Ezzy and I moved into our house almost 6 years ago (wow) and when we first moved in, I painted the master bedroom Birchwood by Benjamin Moore. It’s a beautiful brown color with hints of taupe so it never feels too heavy. I based the design of the bedroom on the color and had brown linen bedding, dark wood mirror and wood bight stand. The room felt enveloping and monochromatic. I loved it.

This past summer we took on the task of creating a small bedroom for our 2 year old daughter Rachelle. We tried having her in the same room as her older sister but her excitement wouldn’t allow for any quiet or sleep.

So we devised a plan to convert our walk in closet into a bedroom (some still call it a closet, personally I’m not opposed to my daughter having similarities to Harry Potter.)

Once we created a plan for the closet, I started looking for a new design direction for our bedroom. That’s where the Flintstones come in. I was very drawn to the uneven finishes and textures. I wanted to  bring in more natural elements and create a tonal color scheme. I started with a lime wash paint for a more imperfect finish, which I love and have used in many other rooms of my home. We purchased IKEA beds, the MALM model, for something very simple. The color is light wood so you can see the movement of wood grains. I switched out the brown linen for white linen bedding that also adds to the texture of the room. Once the base layer of the room was complete, I brought in some color through the rugs and a small gallery wall. The pictures I chose were all based in nature and I added beads because there’s no Flinstones without some rocks and there’s no gallery wall designed by me without some beads. The floor lamp was the closest thing I could get to an elephants trunk so I grabbed it when I had the chance.

We used the IKEA PAX system for our wardrobe. I am very thankful to Hahsem for Ezzy because he took care of most if not al the customization of the closet. I would lay on the couch due to over stimulation and he finalized where every shelf and light sensor would be placed.

He’s not available for hire because he has another job.

Once the wardrobe was finished, we had a company come in and install floor to ceiling drapery instead of doors for the easy access to clothing and it adds a little luxury to the bedroom.

For me one of the most important factors when creating a space is to create something that feels both beautiful and comfortable. I like a room to feel lived in and tell the story of the people living in it. When a space can tell a story, the space gives itself some soul and every room needs a little soul to make it special.

Thank you for joining me in the process of creating a wardrobe in the master bedroom so our closet could become an empty closet that our daughter now sleeps in. You don’t have to say anything,  I already know, #momgoals