WORTHY HOME

May 8, 2025

Creating a Family Culture You’re Proud Of

Prior to becoming a full time stay-at-home mom, I was blessed to serve as the COO of a coffee franchise in California. I was able to work alongside my husband managing hundreds of people, overseeing day-to-day operations, and working with a great team to shape a workplace culture that we all believed in. I have endless gratitude for the role I held – because it prepared me for the weight and joy of creating a strong culture inside my own home.

Today, God has entrusted me to be the CEO of my household. And with this responsibility, I’ve realized that the shaping of our family culture is where my real legacy lies. Managing two little lives has challenged me in ways that sometimes make my former role feel like a piece of cake. In this last year of full-time parenting, I understand now, more than ever that culture isn’t just about the systems you create, or a powerful mission statement – it’s about what you feel when you walk into a space. It’s the tone of your mornings. The way you respond to stress. The moments you celebrate. The way you speak, listen, pray out loud, and laugh.

Wayne and I both bring a different set of experiences to the table. He grew up in a relatively peaceful home up until he graduated high school – conflict wasn’t often expressed in front of him. His parents would handle their disagreements on a long drive, or behind closed doors. I, on the other hand, saw the messy side of marriage early on. (And for the record – absolutely no judgement to my parents. As an adult, I understand the complexities of their lives and their relationship and can empathize with their limitations.) But I witnessed the arguments. The tension. The unraveling of a family.

Seeing this taught me two things: 1. I wanted something different for my children. 2. Creating a home-life I was proud of wouldn’t happen by accident.

So in our home, we try to be as intentional as possible. We are actively working to create rhythms of worship, grace, and laughter. We are actively working to speak with kindness, and establish strong boundaries – even when it’s hard. Our mornings begin with worship music, good coffee, sunlight, and lots of time together.

These small daily habits? They’re the building blocks of family culture.

In our home, we value presence over perfection, and when we are wrong, we always, always say we are sorry. I am finding that it’s incredibly valuable to get on Jack’s level, look him directly in the eye and say, I’m sorry, when I know that I am wrong.

As a mom, and a wife, I don’t always get it right. In fact, some days, you may find me in the fetal position praying for mercy in my kid’s bathroom. But I’m learning that leadership in the home looks like repentance, humility, and intentional decisions that align with the family we want to become – the family I always dreamed of.

I may not be running a business anymore – but I know that what I’m building now will outlast any office I ever sat in. My prayer is that when I’m old and grey, the home we built and the culture we created will continue to live on in the lives of our children – and their children – shaping how they love, lead, and live.

So here’s to the moms and dads leading strongly behind the scenes.

Your home matters.

Your influence runs deep and wide.

And my prayer for you is that the culture you’re creating now will echo for many generations to come.

That is living a life worthy of the calling.

Sometimes Growth Looks Like a Chicken Coop

If you had told my younger self that one day I would be the proud owner of a chicken coop and ten hens… I might have laughed… or cried. Birds have never really been my thing!

But here we are.
Two kids. Two dogs. Ten chickens. In Texas.

Growing up, my parents (God bless ’em) – two adventurous executives from Silicon Valley – made the wild decision to move our family to a 35-acre property in a small town on the Oregon Coast. Their dream was to give my older brother and I a better life — more freedom, more friends, and more fun.

Even now, I still have dreams about that house.
Not only was it on 35 acres, but it was an incredible former Monastery, complete with a 9,000 square-foot barn and a little hen house nestled across from it.
It was a magical place for us to grow up, and my friends and I made some of our best memories there.

Shortly after we moved, my parents decided it would be a good idea to order thirty chickens.
I remember flipping through little catalogs, my brother and I picking out our favorite breeds.

And yes, you read that right. Not three, not thirteen. THIRTY chickens.

It was total chaos — in the best and worst ways.
The mess. The early morning chores. The evil rooster named Elvis (Elvis stood almost three feet tall and scared the CRAP out of me.)
I still remember dragging my feet as a pre-teen having to clean that creepy coop; I always kept one eye peeled for Elvis.

It was wild. It was stressful. It was hilarious.
And it taught me some of the most valuable lessons I still carry with me today – about responsibility, hard work, and doing things even when they make you uncomfortable.

Fast forward 22 years: I’m now a wife to a wonderful man, a stay-at-home mom of two, living on our own 3-acre property in Texas. And we recently brought home ten chickens of our own. Funny how life has a way of circling back to us, isn’t it? (Thankfully, no three-foot-tall roosters yet.)

When we stepped into this little dream of land and animals, it felt exciting… and a little terrifying, if I’m being honest.

Fears that have crossed my mind once, or twice:

What if this wasn’t the right thing for our kids?
What if I mess this up?
What if a donkey kicks me in the face? (When we visit this local farm, we always coach Jack: “NO butts, JUST faces!” nothing like a little parental confidence to stop your fears in their tracks.)

Here’s what I’m learning in all of this:
Growth is on the other side of our comfort zone.
It’s messy. It’s scary. It’s humbling.
You might cry. You might get kicked in the face.
And it’s also where some of the sweetest, most worthy memories are made.

As we near the finish line of our chicken coop build, I found myself up on a ladder yesterday, painting – picturing my kids gathering fresh eggs in the morning…experiencing the wonder of growing up on this little piece of land that we our so blessed to call ours.

It hit me in that moment…Sometimes the very things we fear the most end up becoming the most life-giving parts of our story.

If you need a reminder today, here it is:

It’s okay to do things scared.
It’s okay to try something you’re not perfect at.
It’s okay to build a life that looks a little different than you expected.

That’s often where God does some of His best work.

Here’s to these darn chickens, fresh starts, and doing the things that scare us.

Because life?
It’s worthy of being lived — and lived to the full. 🤍

When the Tantrums Turn Up, The Screen Turns Off: Our Honest Journey with Screen Time

Not long ago, we took a family trip to the DoSeum in San Antonio. It had been weeks of the kids and I being homebodies. Lots of time spent out on the property, playing in the pond, new chickens, new scrapes, and toddler bruises for Jack. I thought it would be great to go into the city and have a little change in scenery.

I loved going to the children’s museum growing up. Nothing like the memories of the fake grocery store flooding through my mind as I see Jack pushing his little cart through the sea of other kids. Did I mention it was field trip Friday at the DoSeum? Mental note for next time: Tuesday mornings are probably where it’s at. But I digress.

We were all having the best time. I exhaled and felt like maybe, just maybe, the terrible twos were behind us. Jack was listening so well – migrating from exhibit to exhibit with his hand in mine. We were killing the DoSeum game together while his Dad and Ev were enjoying the little cafe.

“Alright, Jack. You’ve got five more minutes.”

“Say yes, mom?” I reassured that he heard me.

“Yes, mom,” He expressed back.

(Through multiple tantrums when leaving the park, I learned that timing cues really helped when it was time to go.)

Alright cool – we’ve got this. We are going to knock this little field trip Friday out of the freaking park!

“Alright bud, it’s time to go.”

….

Somewhere between the pretend H-E-B grocery store and the excavator, we had a full-blown meltdown. I’m talking red-faced, tears flowing, arched-back, screaming-on-the-floor kind of melty.

The reason?
He didn’t want to leave.
He didn’t want a transition.
He wanted control.

NOT TODAY.

I worked to maintain my control, by taking him into the perfectly placed family restroom to calm him down – which led to discipline, and it just got worse. At this point, I was trying to manage the both of us. What does Daniel Tiger say? “Take a deep breath, and count to four.” Well, I felt like needed to count to forty.

If only I could have handled it as well as Mom Tiger – but this was not our best moment, okay?!

I side-packed Jack out of the museum and called my mom on the way home sobbing. In all my emotion I literally thought there had to be something wrong with him. Out of the 200 kids at the DoSeum why was mine the only one melting down? After a bit of discussion, she suggested we take a look at his screen time volume. In the moment, I wanted to cuss at her, but I knew she was right.

That melt down at the museum was a mirror for me.
Not of failure, but of serious reflection.
Something in our house needed to change.

I grew up watching a lot of TV. Like, a lot. A little Cory and Topanga could fix anything. TV was pretty much always on in the background. Now as an adult in my own home, it sort of became the same. A show here, a show there, something to give me a break to reset the house. Or a little YouTube at the restaurant so Wayne and I could connect.

But I started noticing something…
The more screen time Jackson had, the harder everything else became.
Getting dressed. Leaving the house. Going to bed. Being told “no.”

His ability to regulate his emotions was lower.
His tolerance for “real world” stimulation was shorter.
His tantrums were way bigger.

And honestly? So were mine.

Let me be clear: By no means am I all of a sudden anti-screens. I’m a mom, not a magician. The Lion King has 100% saved my sanity on multiple occasions.

But after the big melty at the museum (I’m referring to mine too.) we started making some changes. Small, intentional changes.

We decided to turn the TV off for longer stretches.
Our mornings began with worship music and playing. We got outside more.
And we talked — a lot. Honestly, the time away from the screen made me realize I was missing out on some pretty entertaining conversations with my almost three year old.

Has there still been hard moments? Uh, yes.
Has the shift in our home been worth it? Absolutely.

Because when the screen went off…our imaginations started waking up again.
The tantrums didn’t completely disappear — but our ability to handle them has improved.

And maybe most importantly, I showed up better for Jack and Ev.
Less in my head. More aware of our family unit and ready to tackle the day.

We’re still navigating the crazy world of screen time. I know there’s so much noise surrounding this topic. Whether you’re a screen free family, or still letting Hakuna Matata roll when you need it. Figuring out the best route for your family is always the right thing.

If you’re in the messy middle of this too — I see you.
You’re not alone. And you’re absolutely not failing.
We’re all just learning how to show up as the best moms we can be.

Creating a Family Culture You’re Proud Of

Sometimes Growth Looks Like a Chicken Coop

When the Tantrums Turn Up, The Screen Turns Off: Our Honest Journey with Screen Time

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