🛶 the play kitchen problem

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My husband and I are standing in the playroom, staring at the wooden play kitchen we scored at a garage sale eight years ago.

We could barely fit it in the trunk, but it was a FIND — like, genuinely my best ever thrifting win.

But now...

😬 the cupboard magnet doesn’t hold.
😬 the plastic sink vanished at some point to noooobody knows where.
😬 scores of children have jumped off of it – more times than I want to think about – and it wobbles if you so much as lean on it.

We don’t want to trash it, we’re not even sure it’s in good enough shape to give away, and our youngest hasn’t touched it in at least a year.

So there we stand. Just staring at it while the clock ticks.

Nine years in this house and I am NOT ready to leave it.

We moved in with a one-year-old and zero business to speak of. Maypop Creative Studio wasn’t even an idea yet. When we first saw the playroom, I actually cried.

We’re moving out with a 10-year-old, a 6-year-old, and a business that’s basically paying for the move.

And even though i still freaking LOVE the porch, my office mountain-views, and the neverending kitchen storage, we’ve outgrown it.

...the yard’s too steep for my soccer kid to actually practice on.

...I’ve been sharing my office with the guest bed which means no actual storage.

...and my oldest – who used to LIVE in that playroom – would trade every square foot of it for a door he can close and a room that’s only his.

👆 All of this happened in the background while we were busy living it.

The house isn’t to blame – it did exactly what it was supposed to do for the people we were when we first moved in.

We’d been shuffling for a while before the day that stupid mold ever showed its face – and it worked, for a long time.

Right up until it very much didn’t.

Outgrowing your starter site isn’t the problem either.

It just means your business grew past what you built back when you were first starting (ok we’ve all been there, don’t @ me).

I’m not gonna pretend the packing part is fun.

It’s not. You have to sort through what stays and what goes – what’s actually worth bringing into the new site instead of dragging it along out of habit.

It’s a bitch.

But when you do book your project, tackle all that Not So Fun Stuff, and finally launch the glowed-up version, here’s what changes:

Your site stops being proof that you exist, and starts proving you’re worth choosing.

→ A site you can send someone to without cringing a little.

→ One you can go update yourself without needing to babysit.

→ One that does the explaining for you, instead of the overload of DMs and emails you’re sending right now.

→ A site that calls in the right people who are this second searching for someone exactly like you – but the Reader they find on your site isn't the version you are now.

And that annoying clock is still ticking, waiting for you to make a decision.

If you’re just now realizing you’re staring at a once-perfect, no-longer-useful play kitchen – you’ve got one shot at working with me before 2026 is over. (I know! It’s already September!! WTF?!?)

Otherwise, you’ll be dragging that old thing with you right into the new year.

I’m just about booked for the rest of the year, but I have one 1:1 spot left, in November. Tell me about your site and let’s see if I’m the right gal for the job.

P.S. If your site’s outgrown buuuuut you’re more into a done-with-you situation: I’m running a slightly modified version of Website Wayfinder starting this winter. Get on the waitlist and I’ll shoot you the details as we get closer.