Memorial Day

Same pictures, different day. 

On Memorial Day, we opted for another hike. Uriah woke up with a nasty cold, and we thought the fresh air would do him some good. We chose a different path in the same Hulls Gulch region, this one taking us down into the valley. It was beautiful and warm and we loved getting out together as a family!

Later in the day, we kept getting asked what we were going to be doing for Memorial Day - bbq?, picnic?, party? We both forgot that people usually use this day to get together with family and friends - we were just so excited to get time together with our little family, we never even thought about sharing our day with anyone else...?! It was a good decision for us, though. Uriah's fussy state required a lot of attention, and the extra naps and quiet time gave Stephen and I ample opportunity to cuddle up together and talk. We're pretty blessed, the two of us. And it is most easily remembered on days like that. On Memorial Day - a day designated to remembering and honoring those who have chosen to give their lives to defend our country and protect our freedom. I am so thankful for those men and women, giving up everything for their family, friends and strangers - for me. Humbling, right? We celebrated you all simply, but truly. Thank you!

full disclosure

Do you ever wonder if what you're in seeing in social media is real life? Like, is her hair really that pretty all the time? Does her kid really never get dirt on his clothes? Does she really always eat so healthy? Does she actually workout that often? Are they really that happily married? It's a well known fact that comparison is a waste of time. There are hundreds of blog posts out there preaching the same thing - other mommas with the same thoughts as mine - "comparison is the thief of joy". But still, we compare. And, if you're like me, occasionally fake it because you know other moms are looking and comparing and you want to be able to stand up to the heat. I try not to, and I do it very rarely, but sometimes pretending I dress nicer than I do and pretending my house is cleaner than it really is and pretending Uriah is better behaved that he is... so and so forth, makes me feel better about myself. But you know what? That's not cool. It's not healthy. There is so much power in truth. So much beauty and so much humor. So, the truth is, there's a hole in my pants, a scuff on the toe of my shoe that I covered up with black Sharpie before walking out the door and I forgot to put on deodorant. And there you have it.

Hulls Gulch on a Saturday

Saturday started our three day weekend with Stephen - no hospital, no scrubs (though there were still some books and coffee study sessions) We opted to celebrate with a hike! We've been wanting a baby backpack since last summer and finally got one. About dang time, too! Uriah weighs so much, I don't know how much longer Stephen will be able to lug him around! We haven't done much exploring Boise, at least not outside of our neighborhood, downtown and the parks. We decided on the most popular Boise hike, (according to Google) Hulls Gulch. It's only a few minute drive from our house and offered just enough incline to get a little workout without leaving me gasping for air ;) Stephen and I did a lot of hiking when we lived in Oregon, and honestly, nothing will ever beat that for me. The rivers and lakes that you find off the trail, all the greens and trees and flowers... No offense, Boise, but you will never top that! For Idaho, though, the hike was beautiful. There was a great view of the city, and I personally love the smell of sage brush. Uriah couldn't have cared either way, though. It took him a little while to get used to the backpack, and I may have bribed him with muffins, but eventually he settled in. We stopped at our halfway point and let him play in the grasses and rocks, which was easily the best part of the hike for all three of us. Uriah loves being outside and is all about finding sticks and pinecones, collecting them one by one and bringing them to us like he's found a hidden treasure. And they are little treasures. Each piece of bark and grass put in my hand by his tiny fingers means so much to me. He is my little boy... (I could easily get extremely sentimental and mushy here, but I will spare you the proud momma comments and happy tears and just say I love that little human (oh and his dad...!) and we had an amazing Saturday together. The end.)

the way my iphone sees it

My mother-in-law was here for Mother's Day weekend, the following weekend, my family all came up for my cousin's graduation from Boise State, and we had a whole three days with Stephen this Memorial Day weekend - we've been busy! And so blessed by all this time with family! (And gorgeous, warm weather!) So, before the onslaught of posts to come, which will actually all be from the last three days because I'm so good about getting my camera out when other people are around, an Instagram/iPhone update... 

being "momma"

I tried all last week to write a post for Mother's Day - what it means to me to be "momma". You guys, I got nothin'. Even now, after all my Mother's Day emotions, I'm sitting here drawing a blank. Not because being a mom doesn't mean anything to me, but because it means everything to me. And how do you put that into words? How do I convey to you, to my husband, to Uriah what it truly means to play this role? How do I tell my own mother how much I love and appreciate her? And my mother-in-law, my sisters, my friends...

I get so caught up in the everyday, mundane tasks of this job, I often forget to look at the big picture. I am raising a child. I am responsible for another human being - a life. I am responsible for teaching him right from wrong, how to love, how to be confident, how to communicate, how to be a strong, independent individual... I am responsible for teaching him about Jesus, how to know Him, love Him and live a life for Him. And that's huge. Our job as mothers is huge! And it's not just a job. It's a calling - a gift. And I hope my babies always know just how much I cherish this gift. I hope they know that I thought about, prayed about, and not so patiently waited for them and to be called "momma".

Some days I'm not a very good one. Some days I spend too much time on my phone or not enough time outside. Some days I choose a clean house over a game of chase. Some days I dread when Uriah wakes up from his nap because it means "my time" is over. But on all days I rock him to sleep with tears in my eyes and I watch him play with an enormous and proud smile on my face. On all days I kiss him far too often and ask for endless amounts of hugs. On all days I thank the Lord for my baby boy. I thank Him, too, for the grace this job requires daily. On those "some days" when I am slipping, He lifts me back up. I could not be a mother without my God and I pray that He will help me grow into a better mother, daily. I pray that He will guide me in what and how I teach my son. I pray that He will give me strength and patience and understanding and love. I pray that with Him, I can lead my son to be a man of God. What a heavy weight motherhood is to carry... but it is just as equally an absolute JOY. I am so honored that God made me a mother and gave me Uriah. I am so unbelievably honored... and humbled and appreciative. May I never take one day as "momma" for granted.

I am so very grateful for my husband, who made me a momma, too. I am so grateful that he has supported me through breast feeding and schedule changes and staying at home. I am so grateful he wanted to join me in this parenting adventure and I am so grateful for the grace I receive from him, too. When he comes home and our naked baby is crying and dinner is no where to be found. When I expect him to change diapers and monitor bath time and do the evening round of dishes after a full days worth of work. Thank you, Stephen. From the very depths of my heart, thank you.

To my own mother, whose endless love and support and friendship I would be completely lost without, thank you. To be able to get a glimpse of her love for me through my love for my son... I am convinced I haven't been nearly nice enough to her over the last 24 years. 

To my mother-in-law who raised one hell of a man, my sisters who are teaching my nieces and nephews to be smart, beautiful, confident, talented people, my many second moms, my grandmas, aunts and cousins, my friends and followers... thank you all for being "momma". 

Also, and completely unrelated, what I wore on Mother's Day...

^^ I've easily gotten more compliments on this skirt than any other piece in my wardrobe. Thanks, Ashley, for the Christmas present three years ago! Two thumbs up! ^^

From me to you - Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day weekend from me, to you!
I have been feeling the love this week from both my boys.
One, who is hardcore teething and still somehow only rotten two hours out of the day (because he can't be too perfect. Though, gosh, he's pretty darn close), giving me non stop hugs and kisses the rest, and the other, who brought me flowers on his last day of this roation and called me beautiful twice today (that really genuine kind of "you're beautiful" that catches you off gaurd and makes you blush and think "are you talking to me?")
I am so blessed.
That's all.
That and a smattering of random pictures from last Sunday.

two bright patterns and a middle finger, because sometimes the public is rude

In my freshman year of high school, I tucked my boot leg jeans (because skinny jeans were not a thing, which makes me sound old) into a pair of leg warmers and wore them with a pair of pink converse shoes on my 15th birthday. People literally pointed, rolled their eyes and laughed with their friends. The same year, when leggings were only seen in magazines and not on the streets of good 'ol Pocatello, Idaho, I liked the look and decided to find a way to mimic it with what was in my closet. I came up with a black layered mini skirt over my jeans with a slouchy tee. My sister refused to walk into school next to me. Later in high school I wore knee high, multicolored striped socks with a pair of cowboy boots and a jean skirt and was called a rodeo clown, by the same person who called my first peasant blouse "frumpy", before peasant blouses were a thing. Blue polka dot rain boots, purple skinny jeans, a color streak in my hair and an oversized aztec print cardigan - I have similar stories about those, too.

Now, I'm not suggesting that I know fashion - that I was or am a trendsetter. I studied the business side of apparel design in college and worked on the business end of Nordstrom, but I have always loved fashion. Or I guess I should say, style. Because what can be found in my closet is most likely not found walking down the runway in New York City, it wouldn't be considered fashionable by those standards, but it is my personal style. Simple, plain, boring, weird, cheap, frumpy, call it what you will, it's my style. And I've loved changing it and expanding it over the years. With some successes and many failures, I'm sure.

I thought of this outfit while I was getting ready for church, and was hesitant as to what it would look like on, a success or a failure? I love mixing patterns, but was it too bold, too much? Was someone going to point and laugh, call me a name? (Oh, wait. I'm not in high school anymore!) I feel like had I worn this in high school, though, it would have been added to the list above as "not approved by public". Well, public, today I give you the middle finger! I mean, no offense, but sometimes you can be pretty rude. So I wore my two bright patterns with no coat and no apologies. And you know what, it felt pretty damn good!