Burn It Down

I’m done.

I’m done with this house.

I’m done with the constant cleaning.

I’m done picking up when I should be working, even though I have zero time.

And the kicker? Today I’m cleaning the house before the housekeeper comes. If that isn’t some kind of poetic oxymoron, I don’t know what is. Cleaning before the cleaner. But it’s not fair to her to walk into a house that looks like six kids each spun their own personal tornado inside it. Dirty socks, random wrappers, and mysterious items that nobody wants to touch—not even me, and they’re my kids.

Every day, the kids have a 30-minute chore after school. They know this. They know that the day before Linda comes (our saint of a housekeeper, who shows up once every two weeks), the downstairs has to be picked up. She’s in her 60s, she works hard, and I refuse to make her dig through our chaos before she can even get to her actual job.

But do they do it? Bare minimum. Always. Which means hours of work for me. On top of everything else—like cleaning up the dog vomit this morning and the cat vomit yesterday. (Why is it always orange?!) Or staring at the junk baskets, junk drawers, and junk bags that seem to multiply in the corners of my house like bunnies.

Sometimes I just want to say: burn it down. Give me a couple of knick-knacks, my portraits, and seven days of clothes for each person. A few timeless toys—Hot Wheels, Legos, Magna-Tiles—and we’re good. Keep the memories, torch the rest.

I know, I know. I can’t actually burn it down. (Dear insurance company: this is a metaphor. If lightning strikes my house tomorrow, this blog post is not a confession.)

But here’s the truth: I don’t know how to do this anymore. I don’t know how to get out from under this mountain of stuff. The kids count on me being too busy to enforce chores. The other adults in the house don’t pitch in much. So it’s me. Me, the kids who “kind of, sort of” clean, and Linda—my angel—who comes every other week and at least gives me clean floors and counters.

If I ever get a promotion, I’m telling you now—I will prioritize more help. Because I need it.

Until then… burn it down.

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Mama, I know how easy it is to get lost in the swirl of kids, work, and life. That’s why I love creating space for moms to pause, breathe, and be reminded of their beauty. At Kristian Hutchings Portraits, you’ll be cared for from start to finish, and you’ll leave with images that show you the grace and strength your family already sees every day.

P.S. I promise the studio will be clean :).

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Kristian is a mom of six, Program Manager by day, active Professional Photographer by trade, and a big believer in finding beauty in the everyday chaos.

Life in our house is loud, messy and full of literally everything. Love, noise, laundry, laughter, and definitely could use a bit more grace. I'm happily married to my best friend, grounded in my Catholic faith, and fueled by five to six hours of sleep per night and adrenaline.

I try to find joy in the everyday — even when it's wild, because without the little bit of joy, this life would be unbearable. This space is for the moms in the middle of it all: the ones juggling family, faith, work, and wonder. The ones that need someone else's messy life to make their own seem better or somewhat normal. You're not alone, and you're doing better than you think.

Welcome to Six Sweet Smiles — where we celebrate the mess, the miracles, and everything in between.