Hi! Nice to meet you!

I'm a mom of three, I work full-time in real estate, and our family lives in a 1928 row house in Washington, D.C.

Like a lot of older city homes, ours has plenty of charm...and very little storage. With three kids, small bedrooms, and busy schedules, we've had to get creative about making every square foot work harder while still creating a home that feels calm, welcoming, and beautiful.

Outside of work and family life, I'm also helping care for my mom, who lives in Denver and is facing a serious illness. This season of life has reminded me how important it is to create spaces that bring peace, comfort, and a little bit of joy.

That's why I started Slightly Cooler Home.

This is my creative corner of the internet—a place to share design inspiration, clever storage ideas, simple DIY projects, and all the little things that make a home feel more functional and a little more beautiful. Creating and designing is something that genuinely makes me happy, and I hope it inspires you, too.

Every week, I'll share one achievable project, along with practical ideas, organization solutions, and links to the products I actually use and recommend to friends.

Whether you live in a row house, a condo, an apartment, or simply want to make better use of the space you have, I hope you'll find ideas that help you create a home you love.

Thanks for following along. Here's to making our homes—and maybe our lives not perfect, but...a little bit cooler, one project at a time.

The Pink Room That Took a Year

Let me tell you about a transformation that was literally a year in the making.

Over a year ago, I wandered into Ace Hardware and picked up a paint swatch called Odessa Pink. for my daughter Estella's room. Elegant. Sophisticated. Not bubblegum or princess. More like a feminine Joshua tree vibe. I brought it home and stuck it to Estella’s wall with a sticker holding it up.

And then it fell off. Every. Single. Day.

The sticker got all grimy and I knew at that point that the shade looked good in morning light, afternoon light, evening light, overhead light, you name it. But for some reason, I just kept sticking it back up, like it was my job.

I hired a painter on TaskRabbit. They didn’t show. Twice. I got some real “this is not meant to be” vibes. Then I got a quote and it was too expensive, and I thought, Fine. I’ll do it myself.

Two weeks (or maybe two months, who’s counting?) later, I finally did the thing.

Marcos, who used to paint houses during college summers, gave me some tips and I got to work. I FaceTimed my high school friend Alison while rolling on that first coat. I listend to podcasts during the second go around. I may have done some circus-level acrobatics to reach the corners. But I did it.

And now? The room looks exactly like I imagined. A not-too-girly, cheerful pink that somehow makes the room feel both larger and warmer. It’s cozy, unique, and just a little bit unexpected.

Sometimes it takes so long to finish a space that you think, Ugh, this would’ve been cooler if I had just done it last year. But honestly? Maybe it’s even more enjoyable because I waited. I lived with the “before,” I appreciated the “almost,” and now I get to fully love the “after.” I'm trying not to feel to bad about the projects I put off because why would I waste that energy, right?

Estella and Ivy share this little room, and it’s been such a joy watching them in this darling, in-progress space together. I still have plans to maximize every inch, but let me tell you—the paint alone feels like pure magic. Truly, the most transformational thing you can do for a room it paint it.

So here’s the before, the inspiration, and the after. One year, one shade of pink, and a whole lot of patience later. If you are on the fence about some kind of paint, just get it, paint and make a space slightly cooler, this is your sign.

Odessa Pink Walls and Cozy Rug from Rifle Paper Co

BEFORE- White Walls, White Rug (Cozy but white rug in a toddler room? um no. )

1% Better (a.k.a. My Sanity Saver)

A daily shift that is working for me...

So here’s the thing: I’ve been thinking a lot about this idea of just making something 1% better. Not “walk into a room and clean the entire thing from top to bottom while sobbing into your cold coffee” better. Not “organize like The Home Edit with rainbow bins and matching labels” better. Just… one percent. A nudge. A teeny, tiny shift.

You’ll hear me talk about this a lot on this blog, because it’s kind of become my go to in this season. Even writing this blog post. (Do you know how many times I’ve sat down to write and thought, “Well, I can’t finish the WHOLE post, so why even start?” Spoiler: a lot. So today I said, fine, just write one messy paragraph. One percent. Here we are.)

Let me give you an example. My son’s room.

This room...deep breath, causes me SO MUCH anxiety. When he was little, it was my happy place. He’s my first child, and I designed that room. For a long time, it was my favorite spot in the house. When it was tidy and magical, I felt like, yes, I am a good mom. Like somehow the organized bookshelf and cute bedding meant I was also building him a good life. (That is… a lot of pressure to put on a single room, I know.)

Fast forward: he’s older now. He has his own interests, habits, and let’s just call the vibe creative chaos. His room is HIS sanctuary. The other day he actually said to me, “Mom, you like things tidy, but I feel relaxed in a mess. I love and feel at peace in a messy environment.”

(At which point I had to just sit down and breathe into a paper bag because… what?)

So yeah, I’m learning to let go. A little. Maybe a lot.

What I do now is this: I walk in, take a look at the piles, and instead of trying to fix everything, I pick one thing. Just one. I’ll put away a stack of books. Or shove the laundry into the basket and put it in another basket. It’s not Instagram-worthy, but it’s better. And, weirdly, it feels like letting go.

I’ve started doing this everywhere. In my office at work (goodbye, dead plant). At home (five minutes of laundry instead of all of it which would take “five hundred million minutes” (What my daughter says when something takes too long).

The space shifts. My mood shifts. It’s not perfect, but it’s slightly cooler than it was before.

And honestly? That’s enough for now.