Wide-Awake In A Marriot At 4AM (Or: The Grand Myth That Is “Having It All”)

Jordan Reid California

I'm not even sure what to write today; all I can think about is how happy I am to be home.

I am so grateful to get to travel, and to get to do the kind of work I do. I'm so scared of sounding like I'm not, or like I'm not aware that I have a choice in the matter - I mean, obviously there is no one ordering me to take on multi-day shoots in far-flung locations. But the fact that I'm incredibly excited about the projects I've been working on lately doesn't change how much anxiety I'm having over the possibility that my schedule might stay this way, because I haven't been handling being away from my kids especially well, and I don't know if that's going to change.

I was talking to my mom about this, and she said something to the effect of "Jordan." (With a period, which tends to indicate that whatever's coming next is accurate and also something I should have thought of myself.) "Most working parents have to return to an office a few weeks after their children are born. You mostly get to work from home, and if now, several years in, you're starting to have to occasionally travel for a week or two, that's how it goes. Jobs evolve, and your family will evolve too."


Bye-Bye, Baby: Time For A “Big Girl” Room

Jordan Reid daughter

So big I can hardly stand it.

I expected to get a little misty-eyed about seeing my baby girl move out of her crib into a "big girl bed" (aka my son's old toddler bed)...but she is so freaking excited about it that it made me excited, too. (OK, so I may have cheated a little by putting a pink, heart-covered comforter on the bed. She was ALL ABOUT that thing.)

If you recall from this post, my major issue was that I needed to keep our futon in my daughter's room for when guests come to visit, but the room isn't big enough for a futon and a dresser and a toddler-sized bed - I tried, trust me. Kendrick came into the room one night and found me dragging pieces of furniture back and forth trying to find any iteration that worked, and it just wasn't possible. The solution: we picked up an inexpensive narrow dresser that would fit into Goldie's closet, and moved her old dresser into our room. The coolest part: the top of a dresser was a changing table, but it was removable - so we just slid it underneath the futon so it'd be out of sight but still accessible for diaper changes until we're done with potty-training.

Shop Jordan’s Favorites


Off The Grid

Off the grid food trucks in Presidio Park San Francisco

Who knew our picnic blanket would be such a hit?

(Check out 11 Inexpensively Awesome Bay Area Dates)

I've been meaning to go to Off The Grid - a gourmet mobile food market that travels around the Bay Area - for months now, and when I went up to stay in San Francisco with Morgan for the night we decided to take all our many, many children to the Presido Picnic. (To clarify, we technically only have four children between us, but four people under age 5 who have been plied with M&Ms and then released into the wild feels like approximately twenty.)


Hot In STL

Distressed white Converse sneakers with leather laces

When I left home, these sneakers were snow-white. 

Hey there! I'm in St. Louis. Again. (And once more again later on this summer.) This go-round is three days long (plus two travel days), and each of those three days has involved 12-13 hour shoots in 100-degree weather (with occasional thunderstorms), plus a LOT of dust. And mud. And things like construction equipment.

I am disgusting. 


How to Take Your Toddler to the Amusement Park: A Mother’s Guide

how to take your toddler to the amusement park funny

Wherefore art thou, Monk-Monk?

You may have heard me mention my friend Erin - my partner at glam | camp and my coauthor on our upcoming book (#spring2017 #WOOOO) - ooooh, from time to time. Like all the time. And it's always seemed weird to me that there are people who I mention here over and over and over who really are much more lucid and funny storytellers than I am, and whose words you should probably hear for yourself.

Yesterday Erin was telling me about her Father's Day trip to an amusement park with her husband and toddler, and I decided to ask her if I can start publishing her stuff on RG. She's just way too funny. And she also uses way fewer parentheses and ellipses than I do, which I have to assume will be refreshing. So starting with today, you'll start seeing her stories here from time to time. (Along with her own illustrations, of course, because that is how Erin rolls. I mean, I prefer screenshotting Google Images myself, but if she's going to be all "here is some original artwork that I just whipped up with one hand while making presumably healthy groat-inclusive things with the other," I suppooooose I can make an exception.)


Au Naturel

Jordan Reid

These past few weeks, I’ve been clocking a minimum of an hour a day in the pool, and usually it’s more like two – the first around late afternoon, helping my kids figure out this whole “move your arms and legs at the same time” thing, and the second after they’ve gone to bed, when I have nothing more pressing to do than swim a few laps all by myself in the silence.

I’m trying to remember to do this more lately: find opportunities to be quiet with myself. It doesn’t come naturally at all, but I read something Brené Brown wrote about letting go of the idea that exhaustion is a status symbol, and it’s something I’ve been trying to remind myself of as often as I can. Basically: that it is okay to rest, and to do something for no other reason than because you enjoy it.

Anyway, this is a new thing for me: wanting to spend more time than I have to in a pool (as opposed to “next to a pool”; I’m pretty much always happy to do that). The reason I’m finally enjoying it now is because I realized that my rationale for not swimming every day was a completely ridiculous one: I didn’t want to get my hair wet, because blowing it dry again is a pain.


Allow Me To Introduce You To…Frosé (a.k.a. Frozen Rosé)

IMG_6345 (1)


This is the best summer cocktail in the universe. Hyperbole, you say? 'Tis not. Frosé is essentially a tarted-up slushie for grownups, except instead of Berry Berry Buzz or whatever, it tastes like...wine. Except better.

When Brie and Francesca were visiting last weekend, I decided to take Friday off so we could all hang by the pool with the kids and have a relaxing, mildly debauched day involving lots of eating and drinking. (One of the many, many things that I especially love about these two, as an aside, is that we're all naturally on the same schedule: we wake up at 7, make coffee, immediately plop ourselves down in front of our computers, and sit motionless for a minimum of three hours before deciding that it might be a good idea to get dressed or brush our teeth or in some way acknowledge that the day has begun. On Friday, we all woke up at the same time, caffeinated ourselves, worked for a few hours, and then made the mutual decision that it Friday and beautiful outside, and thus officially time to get on the rosé-drinking bus.