03/ 19/ 2017
After a particularly rough night, church was exactly what I needed today. In Relief Society we talked about prayer and it served as such a beautiful and needed reminder that our prayers are heard. Heavenly Father knows our hearts. He hears our cries and our desperate pleas for help. We are not alone. Not ever.
These were two of my favorite quotes that stood out to me. But the whole lesson is beautiful and testimony building. Prayer is such a personal thing. It’s such a blessing. When you realize that no one else knows your heart as well as Heavenly Father, it becomes even more special. To be able to speak to a loving Father in Heaven who knows every desire and worry and hope of your heart, is such a beautiful gift. If you have a few minutes, please take the time to read it HERE.
Last night, Cory held me together as I fell apart. That sounds like such a cliche thing to say, but I don’t know how else to describe it. I cried so hard and so long it drained me completely. When I started hyperventilating, he coached me through deep breaths until I was steady again. He always helps me get steady again.
I keep meaning to talk about my experience with depression, but as soon as I think I have it “figured out” (lol. does that even exist?) life throws me another curve ball and it’s like I’m back at square one. So maybe when I get a handle on this (again) I’ll talk, but right now I’m too tired to get into it. My heart is just. so. tired.
I just felt like I needed to bear my testimony that the Lord knows each of us individually. That He blesses us with tender mercies throughout our day. I had no idea what we were going to be discussing in Relief Society. I almost didn’t go, but I’m so glad I did. I’m so glad I was able to be reminded that I am heard. I’m so grateful for a husband who prays for me and loves me unconditionally and who brings so much light and calm to my life. I’m grateful for a Father in Heaven who hears us. Who knows us and who is always there, waiting for us to turn to Him. All we have to do is ask.
God is good.
Life is beautiful.
Even when it feels heavy and dark and lonely, there is always light.
Even if it’s just a glimmer.
It’s always there.
He is always there.
03/ 16/ 2017
Every time Cory goes out of town for work I tell myself I’m going to be productive.
Every. Single. Time.
I’m going to use all that extra time scrubbing the house, organizing every drawer, closet and storage space. I’m going to go to bed early and get so much sleep I won’t know what to do with all that extra energy. Just kidding, I do. I’m going to clean and organize and finally clear the space at the foot of our bed that really likes collecting socks and laundry baskets.
But here I am. Four days in to this week long trip with folded laundry lined up on my couch and a linen closet that needs to be organized like woah.
The thing is, when Cory’s not here, I don’t go to bed until 1-ish. I’m not doing anything special or productive. I just stay up because I can. But no good comes from staying up too late looking at pictures of my babies when they were babies. It doesn’t make morning easier and it definitely doesn’t give me the energy I need to tackle that LET’S DO IT!!! list I keep adding to.
It doesn’t help that the weather has been absolutely gorgeous so the kids and I spend most of our days outside. They’re still a little too young to play outside by themselves, so I have to be there to supervise. This is when having a kitchen located in the back of the house with a window overlooking the backyard would come in handy. Think of how many dishes I could wash! Think of how many drawers would be organized! Think of how amazing I would be if only I had a kitchen with a window overlooking my backyard!
So then I get distracted thinking of every possible way I can completely rearrange my house to make that dream a reality. I’ve spent more time drawing sketches of a remodel that’s never going to happen than I have putting away all the laundry I’ve folded. Is there someone out there who will put my laundry away? I don’t mind washing. I don’t even mind folding, but taking those extra three minutes to put it all away is like pulling teeth.
ugggghhhhhhh. I have to go now. Jude is growling at me and demanding we make art. I swear cutting my kids off from the TV has made them as feral as it has creative.
03/ 13/ 2017
Hey girl HEEEEYYY.
The time has finally come for me to give you the low-down on the Elvy City Tour Diaper Backpack. In case you missed it, I did an unboxing of the bag last month. You can watch it HERE. It’s been three weeks and I can honestly say I love this bag. I could write a long post about how great I think it is, but it might just be easier for you to watch it.
Now for the fun stuff! When I saw how much you all loved the bag, I reached out to Elvy and asked them if they’d be willing to partner up for a giveaway. Guess what? THEY SAID YES. That means one of you beautiful gems has the chance to win your very own Elvy City Tour Diaper Backpack!
HOW TO ENTER
These aren’t necessary to enter the giveaway, but each extra entry is worth five points, soo…
If you’re still reading this, I just wanted to thank you so much for being so wonderful and supportive. I know it might sound fake, but I truly mean it from the bottom of my heart. Fear of failure keeps me from doing a lot of things, but you guys have accepted this YouTube venture of mine with open hearts and bellowing “YAAAS’s” and it makes me feel like I can do anything. You are the wind beneath my wings. Okay, that’s a lie. Cory’s the wind beneath my wings. You can be all the colors in the wind. I feel like that’s a good compromise. I love you guys. For realzies.
03/ 07/ 2017
I cannot get a handle on my emotions lately. Why does dream chasing have to be so overwhelming? Why can’t motherhood and Boss Lady-ing (I hate saying that) co-exist effortlessly? Why can’t my kids peacefully nap whenever I want to film or write? Why can’t my microphone be consistently plugged in so I don’t waste 24 minutes of that precious, peaceful time for nothing? Why can’t my kids drink their watered down apple juice instead of spitting it down my back. Why can’t editing videos be a quick 30-minute deal? But I think the biggest question of all is, WHY AM I SUCH A WHINER?
The only thing I hate worse than complainers is complaining. I never want to be one of those people dumping all their issues online, but here I am. Dumping. I realize these are 100% first world problems. I get it. But the thing about my depression is that these dumb non-issue issues are huge for me. They consume me. They make me cry eight times in one day. They make me run out of waterproof mascara faster than ever before. They overwhelm me to the point of anger and hopelessness.
I don’t know why I feel like I have to do everything all at once. My brain does this funny thing where it realizes I have a lot on my plate and then it’s like, “Hey, B, why don’t you get off your lazy butt and exercise or something? It’s not like you have a lot going on. Everyone else does it. Why can’t you do it too?” I think it’s because I have all these things I know are supposed to help my mental health and instead of tackling one or two sections on the self-care wheel like a normal person, I want to take the whole pie.
I REALIZE I AM SETTING MYSELF UP FOR FAILURE BUT THAT DOESN’T STOP ME.
And that’s how I end up here – curled up on my couch with tear-stained cheeks and a shirt crunchy from apple juice spit. It’s a cycle. One I used to go through a lot more often. I feel grateful I haven’t been back in this place for a while, but that makes being here now hard. I know this isn’t normal. I know I’m not being rational. I know I’m letting my doubt and feelings of inadequacy swallow up my confidence. I see it happening. I know it’s happening. But I don’t know how to stop it. It’s like I’m slipping on ice and I’m falling and I know I’m falling but I can’t stop myself from falling.
I thank the heavens every day for the quite moments I have when my heart feels light and my worries are paused. Whether it’s Cory randomly calling to tell me he loves me or watching the kids pile into Jude’s bed after breakfast to play sleepover. They are my sunshine. It doesn’t make everything better, but it lifts my heavy soul. That lift helps me get through the next hurdle. And I need all the help I can get right now.
Life is hard. Motherhood is hard. Balance is hard.
You’re not alone.
03/ 01/ 2017
Before we dive into the bashing, let’s take care of some business! My friend Lauren and I have decided to throw a Bachelor Finale viewing party! We’re calling it The Bach Bash Bash and we can’t wait. We’re really excited about getting together with you and bashing the crap out of Nick who will definitely spend half the episode crying. It’s going to be so fun.
If you’re local to Utah and are interested in coming, please fill out this form! It’ll be on Monday, March 13 at 7:00 pm. We’re watching it LIVE so come a little early if you don’t want to miss watching Nick dramatically stare at the ocean from his balcony.
It’s going to be a laid-back girls night with soda, snacks and drama! This party is open to anyone and everyone. If you consider yourself part of Bachelor Nation, we want you there. If you hate Nick but love snacks, we want you there. If you’re one of the 1% of the population who for some reason likes Nick, we want you there. I promise I’ll talk to you and love you for you despite your love for the devil himself. The point is, we love everyone and we want everyone there.
The only thing I love more than bashing on The Bachelor alone in my living room is bashing on The Bachelor with a group of ladies who GET IT. So bring a snack, bring a friend (or five) and come on over. It’s gonna be a rill good time.
When I first started this series, I had every intention for these to be weekly videos. But as long as this season keeps moving at a glacial pace, I’m going to keep combining episodes. It literally takes me an entire week to watch ONE episode of The Bachelor. It’s so boring I have to stop so I can focus on folding my laundry and then I forget to finish watching.
This week we’re talking Bimini adventures and home towns. We FINALLY meet sweet Raquel and choke back tears when we see how much money Corrine spends on one outfit for Nick. Hint: it was more than I paid for a semester of college. I didn’t mention it in my video, but I think Rachel’s brother-in-law should replace Chris Harrison as host because he’s hilarious and would be a breath of fresh air. But since bad things happen to good people, Chris will probably stay on as host until one of us dies.
It’s a real good time people. I can’t wait to see how many episodes ABC splits the Fantasy Suite episode into. *insert eye roll here*
OH! One more thing. I made myself a Facebook page. Feel free to like and follow along there for new videos and posts!
You guys are the true MVPs. I love you. I really do.
02/ 23/ 2017
Okay, that seems a little dramatic, but it is! It is physically impossible for me to step foot inside a Target and NOT check out the dollar spot. Those darned $1 and $3 items find their way inside my cart and before I know it I’m $31 dollars deep and it’s too late to tell Sonja the cashier I don’t want any of it.
Please tell me I’m not the only one who goes through this. I mean, it’s Target, I KNOW I’m not the only one who finds themselves in the dollar spot trap. I guess I just want to know there are people out there who find themselves buying at least five items every time I go. I’m pretty proud that I didn’t pick up any thank you cards this time. If only you knew how many thank you cards I have…
02/ 18/ 2017
Cory got sick on the first day of the new year and we decided to make a month of it. The kids got sick and now I’m sick and if this is foreshadowing what 2017 has to offer, I don’t want it. That was a bit dramatic. I take it back. If 2017 means cuddles and mediocre television and lots of hugs, I’ll take it.
I’m actually all sorts of jazzed for 2017. This is the first summer I won’t have an infant. Zeke will basically be a toddler and will (hopefully!!) be walking by the time summer rolls around.We’re going to Disneyland with my family this fall and I can’t wait. Cory and I have a lot of lists and camping trips planned. Looking back on this list, I guess I’m mostly excited for summer. Summer’s going to be a rill good time.
I’m also really excited to keep vlogging. I don’t know if that’s what you call what I do over on YouTube, but I never know what to call what I do online. I’m kind of just here, doing whatever I want. It’s very YOLO of me. I’m so proud of that dumb little channel. It feels so good to be creating something for me. I love motherhood so much. Being a mom has always been my first and biggest dream. But it is so, so good and fulfilling to learn a new skill (I’m looking at you, Adobe. Ya little devil) and to do something completely removed from my home life. Yes, I mostly talk about my kids, but this feels separate from that. I can’t explain it. But I feel so proud of myself for being brave and trying something new and sticking with it.
I’ve struggled with the thought of being openly proud of yourself. I used to get really awkward when friends or family told me they read my blog. Like, “Oh. What? I mean. Okay, yeah. Cool.” I think I thought it was cocky to think you were good at something. That it was only okay for other people to be proud of you and totally inappropriate to be proud of yourself. But you know what? I’m over it.
I don’t care if you think that’s dumb. I don’t care if you think I’m dumb. I’m doing this for me and if I can help other ladies feel less alone when it comes to their butter eating, phantom peeing children, you bet your bottom dollar I’m going to keep doing it. Motherhood can be so lonely. You’re surrounded by children all day and while you love them with all your heart, it’s hard to completely relate with someone who eats their boogers. (Yeah. We’re working on it.) I’ve found the more I talk about my motherhood, the less alone I feel. And not in a “I don’t have any real friends” way, but in a “Oh my goodness. Everyone cries over crappy take-out. These are my people” Sometimes you just have to put yourself out there and tell the simplest, seemingly inane stories about your every day life to realize so many other people have the same days and the same stories. We’re not as isolated as we think.
I’ve always heard it takes a village to raise a child. The older I get and the more kids I have (not an announcement) the more I realize that village is so much more than helping a stranger in the grocery store with a fussy baby. It’s about an emotional village. This world of social media has allowed us the incredible opportunity to create our own cul-de-sacs. We can handpick our neighbors. Dear friends – real or virtual – who cheer us on, who cry with us, who laugh with us, who celebrate our victories and who understand and share our dream of one day jumping on a tramp without peeing a little bit. I’m not saying I have to be your next door neighbor (save that for Sally and her award winning cookies), but if you feel like I’m someone who gets it (and you) enough to be in your neighborhood, I’m honored.
More sisterhood in motherhood never hurt anybody.
11/ 21/ 2016
11/ 14/ 2016
Let’s talk clothes.
A few weeks ago I went to Target and Old Navy. Spring is nigh upon us and I needed something to wear other than maternity sweaters and leggings. I was so excited to go shopping. You guys, so excited. I feel like this is the first time in my life I have a clear vision of what I want my spring/summer style to be. No “branching out” to hip trends* just because they’re in. I want to stick to what I know I love, what I feel comfortable in and what makes me feel good. I’m at this awkward stage where I’m a size too big for normal sizes but sometimes too small/not built right for the plus size lines. Half of style is having confidence in what you’re wearing and heaven knows I don’t feel confident in half of what those crop-top, fringe vest, flower crowned youths today are wearing. Youths!!!
*Speaking of hip trends, can we make the choker stop? All chokers should have been buried with our 1999 time capsules and left to die.
I started at Target. My ride or die. My one and only. My tried and true. Target killed it with their maternity line last year and I knew their Ava + Viv plus size* line was current and cute. I figured I’d make out like a bandit, get everything I was looking for and call it good after one store. I was wrong. Dead wrong. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many fringed edges in my life.
I bought some press-on nails to help ease the pain and headed over to Old Navy. Anyone who thinks they’re too good for Old Navy needs to get out of the way so I can steal those deals faster. Old Navy is almost always good to me and I am forever grateful for their classic clothes that stay current without being too hip. I tried on shirt after shirt after shirt with little success. Then I thought it would be a good idea to move on to pants. As much as I love and stand by ON, I feel like I need to say, OLD NAVY MAKES THE WORST, LEAST FLATTERING PANTS EVER. But maybe that’s just me. Maybe Old Navy’s factory isn’t able to craft a denim that will cup and cradle and rock my booty as well as Levi’s does. My bottom is not the issue. Three children have not turned it into a potato lump. And I know this because Levi’s delivers. Every time. Levi’s are my apple bottom jeans always and forever.
Back to my story, nothing fit. Shirts were too tight, dresses too short, and jeans too hideous to even consider. So I did what any “emotionally stable” woman five months postpartum would do. I curled up on the dressing room bench and quietly cried until I was red in the face and hyperventilating.
I felt just like I did when I was 11 and swimsuit shopping with my mom. I remember being at Shopko and wanting so badly to get the bright purple, yellow, pink and blue suit from the girls’ section. I remember trying to jump and shimmy my body inside that large. By the time I was 11 I had pre-boobs. You know what I’m talking about – the boobs before your real boobs. The little fatty boobies that chunky babies get that never really seemed to leave my body. So even after I squeezed myself into that large, my chunky baby boobies made it so I needed some extra coverage. That’s what crying in that Old Navy dressing room make me feel like. I was back to being that chubby 11-year old whose pre-boobs were too big to wear a regular girls’ swimsuit but not big enough for a juniors’ suits with padded bra inserts.
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about self-love and self-acceptance. If there’s one thing pregnancy and motherhood has taught me, it’s how to love and accept my body as it is. Sure there are things I can do to tone and tighten, but I think it’s crucial to love yourself where you are right NOW instead of 10 or 20 pounds from now. This newfound mentality doesn’t mean I’m immune from crying in dressing rooms. Obviously. But it does help me bounce back quicker and encourages me to keep on searching until I find clothes that help me express how great I feel inside. Because honestly, I feel like a real-life 100 emoji most of the time.
Different season, same issue.
I went back to Old Navy (will I ever learn?!) and cried. Again. But this time I left with so many more clothes that make me feel like the fanciest mom on the block. But instead of making you read more I’ll just link my video. I guess I should probably announce I’m YouTubing now. Which is essentially a glorified version of my snapchat, but it’s fun and I like it and it’s nice to do something for me. H8rz to the left.
11/ 07/ 2016
Alt Nation was having an Emo Halloweeno weekend and playing all the songs you sung your heart out to in High School. I wish I could take credit for the title of this post, but I can’t. But you bet your bottom dollar I’m going to use it every Halloween from here on out.
Due to the adorable helmet on his head, Zeke was destined to be a football player. Due to my lack of creativity and desire to shell out $20 for another jersey and $40 for a toddler cheerleading outfit, Jude and Ez were his mom and coach, respectively. Ezra made the cutest little coach. He blew his whistle, threw his clipboard and yelled, “Come on guuuuuuuyssss!” like a pro. Jude excitedly said, “I’m Zeke’s mommy!” when we dressed her up but after the trunk or treat she said, “I wasn’t amommy, I was just Jude.” She didn’t say it in a sad way but it broke my heart all the same.
On Halloween, Ez and Zeke donned their cougar clothes and Jude asked to be Minnie Mouse. She ran around the house in a polka-dot blur yelling, “I’m not Zeke’s mommy!! I’m Minnie Mouse!” and it was the cutest thing ever. Luckily she’s too young to care about anything other than candy when it comes to Halloween, but it was still so fun to see her so excited about dressing up. You’d think this Halloween would teach me a lesson, but it didn’t. Like it or not, next year they’re all going to wear the group costume I have cooking and nobody can stop me! Not even Minnie!
During the month of October, we had a Halloween dinner at my parents, went to two Trunk or Treats (with ours and Cory’s parents wards), trick or treated in our neighborhood on Halloween and topped it all off with a pumpkin display and special treat bags from Mama Angel. By the time Halloween finally rolled around and I was officially over the whole ghouling season. By November first, it felt like Halloween lasted months. I’m beyond ready for turkey comas and festive fall decor again.
As we drove to the pumpkins, I couldn’t help but smile. I always wanted to be a wife and mom and have a family and holiday traditions. But it’s one thing to dream about and another thing to live. And Halloween night I realized I’m living my dream and that’s a pretty incredible thing.