In Week Thirty-One, I was able to begin writing blog posts again, thanks to the magical work of Emily. It is an interesting exercise to learn how to ask for help, and then to figure out what it looks like to actually allow someone to help. I find it equal parts exhilarating and exhausting….Read More
Last Saturday, my daughter Norah went to see Hamilton in Dallas. Norah is obsessed with Hamilton, and has been dreaming of going to see it from the moment she heard the show was coming to Dallas. Hamilton tickets are not in our family budget. But Norah is not one to have her dreams thwarted. She is a maker, a doer, a person who brings things to life. And so, she set her sights on making enough money to purchase two Hamilton tickets. One for herself, and one for Rachel (pictured above). Her solution? Neighborhood bake sales.
In our house, we don’t do much forcing in the way our children spend their extra-curricular time. We hold them to academic standards. We hold them to household rules. We hold them to expectations about how they contribute to caring for our home. But we don’t make them participate in extra things unless they really really really want to. Resources like time and availability can be in short supply in our home, so if they say they want to do something, then we are all in. But if they feel lukewarm about something, then we politely decline.
One of the benefits of this approach is we get to see what our children are naturally drawn to by the way they choose to spend their time. We get to see their hard-wired talents emerge and find wings. For Norah, entrepreneurship is in her DNA.
Do you remember the story, The Little Red Hen? This version could be called The Little Red Norah. All by herself she made the cookies and bars and cupcakes. All by herself she painted a sign. All by herself she set up a table at the entrance of our neighborhood. All by herself she took the money she made from the first sale and invested in more ingredients, better equipment, and canisters from the Container Store so that she could keep her ingredients separate. All by herself she put her sister on the payroll so she wouldn’t have to sit alone. All by herself she saved her money. And all by herself, after many hours peddling her wares, she bought two tickets to Hamilton.
All four of my children have similar stories (although in differing arenas), and it makes me immensely proud as their mother to see their gifts flourish when give the space and time for them to do so.
Here’s what we talked about this week….Read More
In Week Thirty, I made a Big Decision. In Week Thirty I hired a personal assistant. Typing that sentence, or even saying it out loud, still brings me a smidge of discomfort because who do I think I am? But also, if you’ve been following along, how could I not ask for help?Read More
In Week Twenty-Nine I forgot to take notes about what happened, so I am working purely from memory on this one. It was a busy week at Hurley House due to five private events. This always translates into more hours for me, because most of the cooking and kitchen tasks fall into my lane for special events (on top of all of the normal kitchen duties)….Read More
In Week Twenty-Eight I decided to stop caring about whether or not what I was cooking was appropriate for the time of day or if it went together in a well-constructed menu. I just cooked. On Sunday night I served scallops, oatmeal, biscuits, an omelette, french toast, and fruit salad. It was hilarious, and odd, but memorable.Read More
We got a sign! It only took three years to pull the trigger, and actually the trigger was pulled by the firm nudging from our landlord who then also went ahead and ordered the sign for us…but we did it! Hurley House is now officially a store, according to the monument sign. It seemed it was the right time, three years in, to go ahead and stop hiding, hoping you figure out where we are located. Now it is posted for the whole world to see (or at least the the world of traffic on Bellaire and Bryant-Irvin).
Here’s what we talked about this week…Read More
In Week Twenty-Seven, I was still struggling to figure out how to get everything done. I began to treat the Ina recipes like a catering order, trying to work it into my daily work flow, tricking myself into making sure it got done. It helped a little bit, but I was still working ten hours every day in the Hurley House kitchen, and then going home to recover before coming back the next day to do it all over again.Read More
In Week Twenty-Six I started to feel sad. The kind of sadness that comes with being overwhelmed and not sure how anything is ever going to get better. The kind of sadness that looks around and hears a tiny voice whisper from the darkness of a fear-filled mind, “How will you ever pull this off?” The kind of sadness that expresses itself in angry tears, full of exhaustion, confusion, and doubt.Read More