Is an All White Family Home An Act of Insanity? Maybe.

The first thing I need to confess is that I was a little afraid of moving into an all white house with kids. I didn’t say much about my fears at the time because I was too busy blissfully decorating my dream home in Copenhagen and could barely sleep because I was so excited to wake up every day in my new space. But by the end of the first week, new dings in the white floors appeared, bumps on the walls showed up, and I was soon sleeping less, no longer induced by fabulous designer dreams, because I was frantically (and tearfully) trying to keep my all white family home CLEAN, while cursing my stupidity as I scrubbed.

I learned pretty quickly that having a white house with kids demanded letting some things go and not obsessing over details only noticeable to God and my Mother. I began to see the minor imperfections as “a manifestation of a life well lived.”

I have loved my white home ever since and never looked back until I photographed another all white family home last week. While this lovely little slice of white heaven does not feature the white floors that we have, nearly every other surface is as white as an albino in winter. {shudder}

And yet, there was no sign of massive mutiny, no smears of chocolate fingers on every wall, and not even a single smudge of paint, mud, or jam in sight. You might be doubting my credibility… does a family with two young kids really live here? I captured the equivalent of the loch ness monster by photographing the kids’ playroom and bedroom with white walls, yet lacking even a single stain in sight. (I’m just doing what a girl has to do when her street cred is under scrutiny. PS These photos are unstyled and were taken “as is”.)

Maybe you will still have doubts. But I believe. It can be done and it can even be beautiful…