life update – Some Punny Bunny

California, I’m Coming Back. Unfortunately.

Posted on September 4, 2026 by Eryn 🐰

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It’s sad that I’m going back to California in a week.

And honestly, I didn’t expect to feel this way about leaving Vegas.

It’s nice here. Maybe because, for once, no one really expects anything from me. I get to sleep. I get to eat. I get to try new snacks with my parents. I get to just exist.

Today, my dad and I had a movie marathon. My mom and I have been watching TV shows together. I’ve been teaching my mom how to understand Gen Z and Gen Alpha slang, which has honestly been one of the more entertaining things I’ve done lately. And my dad has his growing collection of digital cameras.

That last one made me realize something.

I think my dad is the reason I love taking pictures and videos of mundane things.

Not just the big moments. Not just birthdays, holidays, vacations, baby showers, or celebrations. The forgotten moments.

The random Wednesday moments.

Like baby Eryn practicing the violin. Eryn sitting on the floor playing with her Barbie dolls. Things that happened so often that they were completely repetitive to me. I couldn’t tell you what specific Wednesday I was practicing violin or which afternoon I was playing with my Barbies because, at the time, none of it felt important enough to remember individually.

But seeing those pictures and home videos now is different.

Those are the moments I actually want to remember.

And I think that’s why I document so many random little things now. Because eventually, the mundane becomes the memory.

So, yeah. I’m sad to leave.

Going back to California feels like another sacrifice I have to make, and I’m not exactly excited about it.

Of course, my friends are there. I love my friends. But let’s be honest: most adults don’t see their friends nearly as often as they think they will because everyone is working, exhausted, busy, or dealing with their own lives.

So going from this calm, relaxing environment where I can sleep, eat, watch movies with my dad, watch TV with my mom, and generally do absolutely nothing to a much more tense environment is not something I’m looking forward to.

Especially because we still don’t have a place.

Hopefully, before this year is over, I’ll be able to tell you honestly whether moving two separate times while heavily pregnant was better or worse than moving with an infant.

Because apparently that’s a comparison I’m going to get to make.

And listen, I’ve found a lot of places out here in Vegas that are bigger and cheaper. But if Hector wants to struggle in California, then I’ll be a supportive wife and struggle in California with him.

And when shit hits the fan, I will gladly say, “I told you so.”

Because I’m not just being dramatic when I say California is expensive.

$1,000 out here can get you a two-bedroom, two-bathroom apartment.

Meanwhile, $1,400 in Long Beach can get you a studio.

So when I say we’re going to struggle in California, I’m not exactly making up some hypothetical worst-case scenario.

The numbers are literally right there.

I guess that’s the frustrating part. I know what we could have here. More space. Cheaper rent. A little more breathing room.

But sometimes life isn’t about picking the option that makes the most financial sense.

Sometimes it’s about making a choice to follow your partner, supporting them even when you’re not convinced it’s the right choice, and hoping like hell it works out.

So I’ll go back to California.

I’ll unpack whatever we’re able to unpack.

I’ll figure out where we’re living.

I’ll have a baby.

And maybe, someday, I’ll look back at this whole period of my life the same way I look at those old pictures of little Eryn playing with her Barbies.

Something that felt repetitive and stressful and completely ordinary while I was living it.

Something I couldn’t imagine wanting to remember.

And then one day, I’ll realize it was one of the moments that mattered.

Lifestyle

July Update: 60 Day Countdown!

Posted on July 28, 2026 by Eryn 🐰

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How is July already almost over?

It feels so weird knowing I’ve been in Vegas for almost a month. Somehow this month flew by.

I’m officially 31 weeks pregnant, and it’s funny how different the countdown feels depending on how you measure it. Saying I have 9 weeks left sounds like forever. Saying I have 60 days until my due date? Suddenly it feels like this baby could be here tomorrow.

As of today, I have:

60 days until my due date.
18 days until my baby shower.
Absolutely no idea how many days until this baby actually decides to make her grand entrance.

Everyone keeps telling me stories about how their babies came two or three weeks early. Let’s all collectively pray this little girl decides to arrive on her due date… and let’s also pray Hector gets approved for an apartment soon.

I thought I’d have a much bigger update this month, but honestly my sleep schedule has been completely out of whack. I somehow bruised my back, and I swear my hips have become completely misaligned from sleeping on my side every night. It’s been a whole vibe over here.

At this point, I’m definitely ready to not be pregnant anymore… but baby still needs to cook a little longer.

The weird thing is I don’t actually feel much different than I did in June. Like I’ve said before, I still have zero nesting instincts. My pregnancy books keep insisting that around 31 weeks Braxton Hicks contractions usually start picking up, and to that I simply say… absolutely not. Please and thank you. I’d be perfectly happy if they waited.

One thing I wasn’t expecting? Being separated from Hector has completely ruined our plan to stay on top of all the movies we wanted to see this year. Where’s my midnight showing of Spider-Man? I’m not doing that alone.

And, somehow, bringing a tiny human into the world also means I’ll miss seeing a Hunger Games movie in theaters for the very first time. I’ve seen all five on the big screen, so ending that streak feels oddly emotional. Especially since it’s the one I know will hurt the most to watch.

Pregnancy really is full of unexpected milestones.

Lifestyle

I Want to Post More… By Sharing Less

Posted on July 22, 2026 by Eryn 🐰

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I think with the baby coming, I want to be a little more offline while somehow posting more.

I know that sounds contradictory, but hear me out.

I want to share my journey into motherhood because I’m sure I’m not going to do everything “right.” I’m going to make mistakes. I’m going to learn as I go, and I think there’s value in being honest about that. At the same time, I don’t really want my daughter growing up online. I want to protect her privacy for as long as I can.

I’ve realized I really admire content creators who make family or parenting content without making their children the content. The parents are the personalities, not the kids. Their children aren’t expected to perform for the camera or grow up with strangers watching every milestone.

My goal is to be more like that.

If, one day when she’s older, she tells me she wants to be in a video or be part of a post, that’s a conversation we can have when she’s actually old enough to understand what that means. But until then, I want that choice to be hers.

And I don’t mean the trend of filming your kid anyway and just covering their face with an emoji. If I don’t want her online, then I don’t want her online. My content can be me sitting down at the end of the week talking about what motherhood has been like, sharing what I’ve learned, telling funny stories, or doing dramatically over-the-top reenactments of whatever chaos happened that day. Honestly, those reenactments might end up being funnier than the actual footage ever would have been.

That creates a weird balancing act.

I’ve been thinking about switching back to using my actual cameras instead of my phone for photos and videos. Part of it is privacy. Between Meta, Google, and just about every app asking for access to your camera roll, it makes me uncomfortable. I know there are settings and ways to limit that, but if I’m trying to create content while also keeping my daughter’s photos private, I’d constantly be sorting through what stays personal and what gets apps have access to.

Unless I bought a second phone just for content—which feels incredibly excessive.

Instead, I already own two cameras that deserve a lot more love than they’ve gotten: my Canon Rebel T5 and my Canon PowerShot G7 X Mark II. I bought the G7 X back in 2014 when I decided I was going to become a YouTuber. Life happened, I never fully committed, and both cameras are still in nearly perfect condition.

Maybe this is finally their time.

There’s another reason I want to do this, though.

I want physical memories.

My mom made photo albums for me. My grandpa had albums full of pictures of my mom. My stepdad has boxes of old digital camera photos and enough camcorder footage to embarrass all of us for years to come.

And I love that.

He wasn’t the type to take 200 pictures trying to find the perfect one. He’d snap a photo, maybe two, and move on. The memories mattered more than perfect lighting or editing.

For a long time, I was like that too.

I’d take goofy pictures. Blurry pictures. Random videos that nobody else would understand but that made me smile every time I watched them.

Then an ex told me that I never let myself “live in the moment” because I always had a camera in my hand.

And I believed him.

Without realizing it, I stopped documenting my life.

That insecurity followed me into my relationship with Hector. In the beginning, he wasn’t the biggest fan of having his picture taken, so I figured maybe I should just stop asking.

Eventually… I stopped bringing my camera altogether.

It wasn’t something I consciously decided. It just happened.

One year, I talked nonstop about wanting one of those little Polaroid printers that connects to your phone. Hector surprised me with one for Christmas because he knew how excited I’d been about it.

Then he noticed something.

I wasn’t printing photos.

I wasn’t really taking photos at all.

Sure, I’d occasionally pull out my phone, but I wasn’t documenting our dates or our little adventures the way I used to.

I don’t think I realized how much that one comment from years ago had changed me until then.

It’s something I’m still trying to unlearn.

That feeling hit me again earlier this month when my niece turned three.

I didn’t take a single picture at her birthday party.

Normally, I’m the unofficial family photographer. Nobody asks me to do it—I just always have. I capture everyone else enjoying the day while I quietly document it all.

But this time…

I just didn’t.

I wasn’t feeling up to it, and afterward I felt awful.

It made me stop and think: if I’m already letting moments like this slip away, what happens when my own child gets here?

I don’t want to look back and realize I have more screenshots than family photos.

I don’t want to have thousands of pictures sitting in a cloud somewhere that I never print.

I want albums.

I want videos she can laugh at when she’s twenty-five.

I want blurry pictures from trips to the zoo, sticky fingers covered in ice cream, first-day-of-school photos, Halloween costumes, and random Tuesday afternoons.

I don’t need every moment to become content.

Some moments deserve to stay ours.

So I think I’m going back to carrying a camera everywhere.

Not because I want perfect photos.

Because I want a life that’s remembered.

Lifestyle

Four Years Later: From a Pregnancy Scare to Pregnancy

Posted on July 18, 2026 by Eryn 🐰

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Four years ago, I wrote one of the most vulnerable posts I’d ever published. It was messy and honest and filled with questions I didn’t have answers to. I had a pregnancy scare, and instead of thinking about a baby, I mostly thought about pregnancy itself.

Now I’m writing this while very much pregnant.

It’s funny how the same topic can feel completely different depending on the season of your life.

When I reread that old post, I don’t cringe. I actually feel a lot of compassion for twenty-five-year-old me. She wasn’t immature. She wasn’t selfish. She was just scared.

Back then, Hector and I weren’t married. We hadn’t lived together yet. We were still learning each other and trying to figure out what our future even looked like. Money was constantly stressful. We weren’t just budgeting—we were surviving. Every unexpected expense felt catastrophic.

So of course an unexpected pregnancy felt terrifying.

I remember writing that during the month I thought I might be pregnant, I never imagined a baby. I thought about sore boobs. Morning sickness. My body changing. Never reaching my goal weight. Buying maternity clothes.

I only thought about the baby after the pregnancy test came back negative.

Reading that now almost makes me laugh because this pregnancy has been the exact opposite.

Don’t get me wrong—I have still complained about pregnancy. A lot.

I’ve complained about gestational diabetes. About getting stuck with needles. About swollen feet, aching hips, acid reflux, and wondering if I’ll ever sleep comfortably again. I’ve complained about food restrictions, hormones, and the fact that my baby apparently rejects half the foods I actually want to eat.

Pregnancy still isn’t exactly my favorite thing in the world.

But this time, every miserable symptom has a face attached to it.

Every kick reminds me there’s a little person in there.

Every doctor’s appointment feels less like checking on my pregnancy and more like checking on my baby.

The pregnancy isn’t the point anymore.

The baby is.

That’s probably the biggest difference.

Another huge difference is that Hector and I are in such a different place.

We’re married now.

We’ve lived together.

We’ve learned how to be partners outside of date nights and vacations. We’ve figured out who does dishes, who takes out the trash, who panics first, and who stays calm when life gets chaotic. We’ve built routines together.

We’re not rich by any stretch of the imagination, but we’re also not living paycheck to paycheck the way we once were. We can actually breathe a little. That security changes everything.

It doesn’t erase fear.

It just makes the fear manageable.

Four years ago, I questioned whether I should even become a mother. I listed all the reasons I thought I’d fail.

My anxiety.

My depression.

My relationship with my parents.

My finances.

The possibility that one day I’d end up raising someone else’s child, too.

Those fears didn’t magically disappear.

They’re still there, just quieter.

They’re no longer the loudest voice in the room.

Instead, I spend more time thinking about what kind of mom I want to be.

I think about taking my kid to Disneyland.

To the library.

To splash pads in the summer.

To baseball games.

I think about reading bedtime stories, making Halloween costumes, helping with school projects, and introducing them to my favorite movies and books.

Four years ago, motherhood felt like an abstract concept.

Now it feels like a person I’m about to meet.

Looking back, I also realize something about Hector.

During that pregnancy scare, he panicked.

I wrote about how he immediately imagined our future while I couldn’t see past the pregnancy itself.

At the time, I thought we had completely different reactions.

Now I think we were just carrying different burdens.

He was trying to figure out how we’d survive.

I was trying to figure out how I would survive.

Today, we’re imagining that future together.

We’re still nervous.

We’re still learning.

We still don’t know exactly what we’re doing.

But the fear has transformed into anticipation.

If I could tell twenty-five-year-old me one thing, it wouldn’t be, “Don’t worry, you’ll get pregnant in four years.”

It would be this:

You don’t have to have every answer before becoming excited about your future.

Life has a funny way of giving you exactly the experiences you need before you’re ready for the next chapter.

Four years ago, I was afraid of becoming pregnant.

Today, I’m counting down the weeks until I get to hold my baby.

Same woman.

Same relationship.

Completely different life.

Lifestyle

Mid-Year Check-In: Maybe This Is What Alignment Actually Looks Like

Posted on July 2, 2026 by Eryn 🐰

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At the beginning of this year, I chose alignment as my word of the year.

I wrote that I used to think balance meant doing everything all at once. Keeping every plate spinning. Being productive all the time. But I realized balance is quieter than that. It’s about doing the right things at the right time.

I also talked about living in seasons. At the time, I thought seasons were an alternative to balance.

Now, halfway through the year, I think they’re the same thing.

And life has made sure I learned that lesson.

If you had told January me that by July I’d be seven months pregnant, less than three months away from meeting my daughter, packing up a house, preparing to move, and completely rearranging my life, I probably would’ve laughed.

That wasn’t on my vision board.

Neither was putting school on pause.

Neither was stepping away from work.

Neither was preparing to move.

At the beginning of the year, Hector and I were renting a house with a roommate. Now we’re packing up our lives and preparing for one of the biggest transitions we’ve ever faced.

For a little while, we’ll actually be living in separate states while we figure out this next chapter. If you’ve been following along, you already know the circumstances behind that decision, but that doesn’t make it any less emotional. It’s not how either of us imagined spending the final stretch of my pregnancy, but it’s the decision that makes the most sense for our family right now.

Between packing boxes, preparing for a baby who’s due in September, attending what feels like endless doctor’s appointments, and trying to process how much life can change in just six months, I’ve had to accept that I simply can’t do everything.

And maybe that’s the point.

Life rarely asks if your plans are convenient.

It just changes.

This year has looked nothing like I expected, and honestly, there have been moments where I’ve felt guilty about that. Guilty that I haven’t been reading as much. Guilty that I’m not checking goals off as quickly as I’d hoped. Guilty that so much of my energy has gone toward simply making it through the day.

But then I remembered something I wrote back in January.

Alignment means letting your priorities match the season you’re actually in.

Well…

This season isn’t about hustle.

It’s about growing a human.

It’s about preparing for motherhood.

It’s about creating a home where our daughter will take her first nap, celebrate her first holidays, and make memories we’ll tell her about years from now.

It’s about taking care of my body, even on the days when pregnancy feels exhausting. It’s about accepting that rest is productive when your body is literally building another person.

As for those ten goals I set…

Well…

I’ve completed exactly zero of them.

Not one.

And surprisingly?

I’m okay with that.

I started Iron Flame back in January and… I’m still reading it. Mommy brain is real, and every time I pick it up, I feel like I have to reread the last chapter because I’ve forgotten what happened. At this point, I think I’ve spent more time carrying the book around than actually reading it.

Running a 5K while pregnant was obviously never going to happen.

Working out three times a week turned into, “Did I remember to take my prenatal vitamin today?”

Trying twenty new recipes sounded so exciting in January. Then pregnancy food aversions hit, and suddenly half the foods I normally loved made me nauseous. Add in my gestational diabetes diagnosis—which I’ve already ranted about on this blog—and experimenting in the kitchen became the last thing I wanted to do.

The passport?

Still don’t have one.

The tattoo?

That can wait until after pregnancy.

The hikes, the spa days, the giant canvas painting…

None of them happened.

A few months ago, I think I would’ve looked at this list and called the year a failure.

Now?

I don’t.

Because the goals I actually accomplished were never on that list.

I’ve grown a healthy little girl for seven months.

I’ve made it through countless appointments, blood sugar checks, and more medical advice than I ever thought I’d receive in one year.

I’ve advocated for myself when something didn’t feel right.

I’ve prepared for a move during one of the biggest life transitions I’ve ever experienced.

I’ve made difficult decisions for my family, even when they weren’t the decisions I originally wanted to make.

None of those things can be checked off in a resolutions list.

But they’re still accomplishments.

Maybe even bigger ones than the goals I wrote down in January.

At the start of the year, I said this wasn’t about a fresh start. It was about a continuation—a softer, more honest one.

I don’t think I fully understood what I meant back then.

I do now.

Alignment isn’t about having everything under control.

It’s about giving yourself permission to change when life changes.

The second half of 2026 is going to ask even more of me than the first.

I’ll become a mom.

We’ll settle into a new home.

Hector and I will hopefully be back in the same state after this temporary season apart.

None of it will be easy.

But for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like I’m fighting the season I’m in.

I’m just trying to live it well.

And I think that’s exactly what alignment was trying to teach me all along.

Lifestyle

Finding a Home for My Dog

Posted on June 28, 2026 by Eryn 🐰

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I wanted to share a small update about my dog and everything that’s been happening.

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m moving to Las Vegas soon. Unfortunately, I won’t be able to take her with me because I’ll be living with my parents while adjusting to life with a newborn, and that’s already going to be a lot. After thinking it through, my roommate has agreed to take her in, which honestly feels like a small miracle.

Before that happened, I was really worried. I called four different animal shelters and rescue organizations hoping they could help. Two of them never answered, even after I left messages and requested callbacks that never came. The other two questioned me because the address on my ID doesn’t match my current residence, so they thought it might be some kind of scam and didn’t really take me seriously.

I also posted about her on Nextdoor, but nothing came from that either. At that point, I was genuinely concerned about what was going to happen to her.

Thankfully, everything worked out in the end, and knowing she’ll be staying with someone she already knows and trusts gives me a lot of peace of mind. It’s definitely been a huge relief during an already stressful time.

Lifestyle

California Rent Might Actually Be My Villain Origin Story

Posted on May 27, 2026 by Eryn 🐰

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So… not to be dramatic, but I fear I am currently the main character in a Victorian tragedy written by a woman with tuberculosis and unresolved feelings.

At the beginning of May our landlord gave us our 60-day notice, and somehow it’s already the end of the month. July 1st is almost here. We’ve applied to places, gotten a couple nos, and every single rejection email feels like getting picked last for dodgeball except now there’s a baby involved and I cry over yogurt commercials.

And listen… I don’t think we’re getting that deposit back.

The backyard? The dogs basically turned it into an archaeological dig site. There’s also this evil vine that has completely taken over like it pays rent here. The back door is scratched up from the dogs wanting to be let in every seven seconds, and the floors — which were already questionable when we moved in — definitely did not leave this experience improved.

Honestly the whole house looks like it survived a minor historical event.

Most of the deposit was paid by our roommate anyway, so whatever comes back would mostly go to him, which leaves Hector and I in this weird, sad, oddly cinematic transitional era of life.

Which means… there’s a chance we might temporarily have to live apart.

Cue the sad indie music.

The current plan is maybe I go back home to Vegas while Hector stays in California working and saving money so we can eventually get another place together. And before anyone says “just stay with his family together,” girl… no. There’s already tension there, there’s a language barrier that makes me feel awkward and overstimulated 24/7, and I genuinely do not think being stressed and hormonal in someone else’s house while pregnant is the vibe. Plus there’s been this whole ongoing saga about Hector not wanting to move to Vegas, which honestly deserves its own season recap episode.

So now I’m potentially entering my “sent away to the countryside after falling pregnant” era.

Except instead of a countryside estate, it’s Las Vegas. Instead of hiding my shame, I’ll probably be eating fruit with Tajín in bed watching YouTube videos about celebrity drama while growing a tiny human.

Honestly? Maybe that’s healing.

I keep joking that I feel like one of those Victorian girls whose family quietly sends her away until she’s “dealt with the situation,” except my situation is literally just being married and pregnant in a terrible housing market.

Like sorry Father, I have brought dishonor upon the family by… being unable to afford California rent.

Anyway. Life feels very weird right now. Emotional. Unstable. Kinda scary. But also weirdly hopeful? Like maybe this is just one of those messy little in-between chapters before things get good again.

At least that’s what I’m telling myself while aggressively checking Zillow and eating pregnancy cravings that taste like pure Red 40 according to Hector.

Lifestyle

Finally… an Oven Again!

Posted on November 18, 2025 by Eryn 🐰

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When I moved in March, I had no idea I was also moving into a long stretch of life without a working oven. At first, I thought, Okay, fine, I can survive on stovetop meals. It’ll be temporary. But weeks turned into months, and months turned into… well, almost the end of the year. And let me tell you—life without an oven is truly a different kind of challenge.

If you’re someone who bakes when they’re stressed, you get it. Baking isn’t just about food for me; it’s about grounding myself, creating something with my hands, and finding a small pocket of control in a world that loves chaos. Sure, I turned to the blog to cope (a lot, actually), but baking is its own kind of therapy. There’s something magical about mixing, kneading, stirring—watching ingredients transform into something warm, comforting, and whole.

So the fact that we’re finally getting an oven at the end of the month feels… huge. Like a long-lost part of my personality is coming home.

And the timing? Impeccable.
Just before the holidays! Which means:

pies that make the whole home smell like cinnamon and nostalgia
fresh bread that cracks perfectly when you tear into it
casseroles that bubble in all the right ways
and the simple joy of preheating an oven I know will actually work

I can’t wait to fill the house with baking again. To stress-bake, joy-bake, boredom-bake—whatever kind of baking the moment calls for. After months of waiting, it feels like a tiny (but huge!) piece of my life is slotting back into place.

Here’s to warm ovens, warm kitchens, and a very warm end to the year. 💛