01/ 29/ 2019
Millie is sick. Like so sadly sick. Her little eyes are red and her cough is scratchy and her appetite is small. I took her to Instacare late Sunday night because I was getting flashbacks to when three-month old Ezra was hospitalized with RSV. Thankfully both her flu and RSV tests came back negative. Unfortunately that means she’s stuck with a nasty virus and no answers or help other than snuggles, Tylenol and Frida: The Boogie Sucker.
Because of her nasty cold, the kids and I have spent a lot of time snuggled on the couch today. I don’t say snuggled to sound cute, I literally mean snug as a bug in a rug. I sit in the middle with Mills on my lap and the boys sit on either side of me wigging in to get as much space as possible while claiming I’m taking up too much room. It’s cozy and warm and great.
Along with all the blanket nesting we’re doing, we’re also watching our fair share of Baking in a Tent. For those of you not in the know, that’s what we call The Great British Baking Show. You see, I can’t really watch my shows with the kids around. The last thing I want to do is explain why one man is dating thirty women. (I’ve only seen one episode of The Bachelor and remain uncommitted unless social interaction is involved, but you get the idea). Similarly, I don’t really want to spend an undisclosed amount of time watching Blues Clues or Story Bots or PJ Masks. Clever as their theme songs may be.
Baking in a tent is the best compromise. It’s appropriate and clean and exciting for all parties involved. The other day Jude looked at me and said, “I wish I could be…”
before she finished, I smiled and thought, ‘Oh my goodness!!! I’m such a good mom! Watching this show has made her want to be a star baker! AH! My daughter! THE BAKER!!!!’
“one of those people who tastes all that food. What are they called?”
“Yeah, I wish I could be a judge, mama.”
‘My daughter! THE JUDGE!!!’
Oh to be so young and already have life figured out.
In other news, watching this show makes me think I can bake the perfect macaron. I mean, if Glenn can do it, so can I. Right? He just makes it look so easy!
01/ 28/ 2019
During the last few weeks of December I felt the need to document the good parts of everyday. I had the idea to make videos or write posts to help me remember to look for the good. While I’ve been filming little bits of my days, I’ve mostly been documenting quick highlights in my bullet journal. (Yeah, I’m back on the bujo train and while it’s WORK, I loooooove it.)
Today as I went through the tutorial for my writing software (!!!) I got overwhelmed. I let the tabs and features and layout get the better of me. I’m really excited to understand and use my software, but I should probably take it in doses instead of a giant binge that tears me down. Instead of crying, I took a breath and leaned back. All I really need to write is a blank screen or page or napkin or scrap paper or margin or hand. It doesn’t matter where I write as long as I do it.
That being said, I think I’m going to try to combine my desire to look for and take the best bits of each day with my want to write more. I guess that means I’m going to write a lil’ sumthin-sumthin here every day.
Oh lands, I wish you could see me now.
Whhhy does committing to and declaring a goal raise my stress levels so much?
It’s my fear of failure. Thhhaaat’s why. Because if I tell you (hi mom) that I’m going to write every day and then I don’t write every day you will know I didn’t do something I said I would do and therefore I failed.
Why do our brains do that? Why do they make failure out to be the worst thing in the world? How many things haven’t I tried for fear of failure? I hope not many, but I honestly don’t know. I’m not afraid to try things as much as I’m afraid of people knowing I’m going to try things. Which is also confusing because generally speaking, I love you but I literally do. not. care. what you think of me. I realize that sounds contradictory to what I’m saying, but hear me out! If I’m the only person who knows I tried something and failed, then it’s a lot easier to pretend like it never happened. I think admitting failure to others is really what gets me. Because in admitting failure to others, I’m forced to acknowledge it myself.
Since this year is all about taking the best, I’m going to share. Failure or not, the fact I’m writing again is tops in my book. There are so many nit-picky things that almost held me back. Not starting on January 01 was one of the biggest. lol. There are so many things we allow in our lives to keep us from going where we want to. I want writing to be fun for me again. I want it to be a flash from my half&half past, where I couldn’t wait to get on my laptop and write.
I really want to say I’m doing the dang thing but I’m still haunted from those Bachelorette promos from Becca’s season.
Here’s to 12-month periods instead of calendar years and showing that calendar who’s really the boss.
Hint: it’s me
(awww crap, it’s happening.)
01/ 17/ 2019
Cory and I decided we wanted to go to bed earlier this year. We’re resisting the Seinfeld siren call and limiting ourselves to one episode a night or forgoing TV in favor of reading or games or talking. It’s been one of the best decisions we’ve ever made.
And yet, here I am, at 10:15 on a Thursday night, sitting on my couch in my living room, clacking away to the sound of the dishwasher swish. I love when the want to write overpowers the want to sleep. I don’t even have anything deep to say, I just know I need to write. Whenever I want to write but didn’t know what to say, I make a list.
I ironed for the majority of the day.
Not because I “had” to, but because I wanted to. I ironed Cory’s jeans and t-shirts, the boys shirts and pants and Millie’s dresses and onesies. As someone who’s taken a serious break from long-distance ironing*, I think I’ve fallen in love again. I know back in the day everyone had a “warshing day” and an “ironing day” because they had to and, honestly, what else was a pioneer going to do? But, MAN ALIVE, I GET IT!!!!
*long-distance ironing is when you iron more than the clothes you need for the day. long-distance ironing is a commitment to creased clothes every day until the next laundry day. long-distance ironing is intoxicating.
Today I went to Target with two things on my list and I left Target with two things in my bag.
I didn’t browse through the racks. I didn’t check out the shoes. I didn’t “accidentally” find myself in the dollar spot and I completely avoided the stationary section. I honestly don’t know the last time this happened and I feel invincible.
Why can’t friendships stay simple?
You like puppies? I like puppies! Let’s be friends. It makes sense that as life gets complicated, so do relationships, but why?
Four. That’s how many books I’ve read so far this year.
I’m reading them faster than I can listen to them and it’s been amazing. Right now I’m very into books that remind me of romantic-comedies. It’s like reading a cheesy Hallmark movie while I fold laundry, wash dishes and feed Millie. Praise be to my Kindle for allowing me to feed a baby and read a book without constantly losing my place or using my foot to hold down the pages. I’ve been there. It’s rough.
Girl Meets World is the best show I have ever seen. EVER.
It’s cheesy and wonderful and the BEST example of loving friendship. Riley and Maya are everything that is good in this world. I HAVEN’T FINISHED YET, SO IF YOU RUIN THE FINALE FOR ME, I WILL RUIN YOU.
Bachelor season is upon us. meh.
I haven’t watched The Bachelor/Ette/In Paradise in a year. It’s such a commitment to what has become mediocre television. I know once I get started, I’d get sucked right in, but look at all this free time I have now! And as evidenced by this list, I would rather spend my time reading cheesy book and watching tween shows.
Flip phone life is honestly wonderful.
As someone who naturally romanticizes situations (remember how I was going to cloth diaper all my children and grow my own vegetables to then mash into puree for them to eat entirely and spotlessly and they would never have food on their shirts or snot on their face? Yeah, me too. lol.) I am being completely sincere when I say IT IS SO GOOD. I’m distracted less (unless it’s a book… then sorry, I can’t hang out I have plans) and I’m focused more and I feel so free. I could probably write an entire coffee table book on how great not having a smart phone is.
I should really get to bed now.
It’s 10:51, I’m exhausted, and while this wasn’t profound, it was exactly what I needed. In high school I took Creative Writing with Mrs. Bean and discovered my voice. Every single day she would say, “Never a day without a line.” Before we left her class she would always remind us the power of one line.
One simple line. Not a novel. Not an epiphany.
Just one little line. That’s all it takes. That’s all I need.
Just a small thought every day and I know I’ll find my way to words again.
01/ 03/ 2019
I realize the last time I wrote here (almost a year ago) I was explaining my need to disconnect from social media. Now I’m here to tell you that I have beaten Uncle Rico at his own game and time traveled myself all the way back to an era best known for frosted tips, frosted lips and butterfly clips – the early 2000’s. Yes, world. I’ve left my beautiful and beloved Pixel for a smaller, flippier companion.
Long story short, I was getting sick of the need to constantly check-in and be distracted.
Here’s the long story. Last week I went to pick up my groceries and while I waited the five minutes for my Clicklist BFF, Donovan, to bring me my groceries, I checked my email, scanned the news, played two levels of bubble popper and scrolled Instagram. If you’re rolling your eyes right now, I know. It’s ridiculous. But, please, tell me I’m wrong. Tell me everyone who has a smart phone doesn’t get mindlessly sucked into scrolling and liking and pinning and playing and posting and checking and buying, and, and, and… Because we do. Because it’s so easy to get sucked in. Because it’s “something to do.” Since when did we need to be entertained every single second of every single day?
I was getting sick of using my phone as a way to decompress and wind down. Because really, how can you wind down when you’re scrolling and you suddenly think of your best friend from second grade and you wonder how she’s doing and what she’s up to and before you know it you’re 57 weeks deep into her cousin’s best friends feed and it’s 1:37 am?
Last month I toyed with the idea of switching back to a flip phone. I checked out which ones were available, got excited then put my dreams on pause. What if I just deleted my social apps again? What if I took away that distraction so I could be more focused? But after those five minutes in stall number one waiting for my groceries, I knew I couldn’t do that. I’ve started falling out of love with Instagram. Don’t get me wrong, I love to talk to myself on stories and I love to watch you talk to yourself on stories. I love watching people grow and families get bigger, but it just wasn’t doing it for me anymore. I knew I could get rid of Instagram again and be fine, but I also knew I’d find other ways to get distracted on my phone. And honestly, there are a lot of other things that deserve my time more than anything I can find on a smart phone.
So I’m back to the flip phone. It’s been a whole day and I only have two bad things to report.
I kind of love that texting takes forever because it makes me want to text less and call more. Social media is great but I feel like it has masked the social aspect of social interaction. I want a real conversation with a real person with their real voice or their real face. I want to hear kids screaming in the background of a phone call. I want to get so excited talking about something that I start drooling because I DROOL SOMETIMES, OKAY?!
I know this change is going to force me to get out of my snuggly cocoon, but I need it. I want it. And boy howdy, I’m going to work for it.
That being said, I’m really excited to be here again. Writing about everything from deep thoughts to my favorite gifs.
Ahhh yes, it’s good to be back.
03/ 09/ 2018
Yesterday a friend called me to check in. She said she hadn’t seen me post anything in a while and wanted to see how I was doing. It was the sweetest gesture and meant so much to me. It also got me thinking that maybe (?) one of you might be wondering what happened to me.
A little over two weeks ago I deleted Instagram and Facebook from my phone and I haven’t looked back.
At the beginning of the year I told myself I wanted to be more intentional in everything I do. I wanted to be present and engaged as a mother. I wanted to be focused when it came to the work I did: videos, writing, church service, house projects, personal projects, you get the idea. I wanted to put my phone away during the evenings and spend quality time with Cory when we were together.
Social media is such a great thing. I’ve been blogging for nine years and have been on Instagram for six. That’s a long time to share my life and in that time I’ve been fortunate enough to build some genuine relationships. Friendships I wouldn’t have been able to make IRL because, HELLO! these people are all over the country. Social media is wonderful, but it’s hard for me to find the balance. As a stay-at-home-mom with little adult interaction during the day, I love being able to open an app and connect with others in the same boat. I love being able to talk on stories and connect with other women who also have young children and need to shave their moustaches bi-monthly. But the more I logged on, the more I realized Instagram was turning into an escape from reality. I felt justified because I don’t talk to adults during the day. My home is my office and Instagram was my version of meeting at the water cooler. When you think about it, social media is the 2018 version of chatting with your neighbors in the cul-de-sac while your kids run wild. I mean, we can still chat with our neighbors in the cul-de-sac, but how often are we reaching for our phones instead?
Since uninstalling these apps, I’ve talked to my family and friends about this a lot and every time I do I swear I sound like an addict. And maybe I am. Was? Am? Am. I found myself getting on my phone to check something on Amazon or text Cory something cute the kids said and my fingers would swipe up, click right and take me to Instagram. It wasn’t conscious, it just happened. Getting on IG became muscle memory. And after unintentionally taking myself there, I would scroll for at least five minutes before remembering my initial reason for picking up my phone.
I noticed it was getting to be a real problem when one day my kids were trying to get my attention.
“Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Look!”
“Okay, sweetie hold on.”
“Juuuust a minute!”
“What? What is it?!”
I didn’t yell, but I was short and frustrated and snippy. And for what? Extra scroll time? WOOF. I realized I needed to stop putting other people in front of the most important people in my life. Don’t get me wrong, I love you guys. I love sharing and getting to know you and your families and investing in your stories. But honestly, all of this could go away. The apps, the grams, the posts, the likes. It could all go away like that and where would that leave me? I mean, let’s not go crazy. I’d be fine. I’d still be here, in my house, with my babies, married to my boo. But I’d also have a big old rock in my stomach when I realized I’d spent so much time on something that in the grand scheme of things doesn’t matter.
When I look at each of my kids I can’t believe how big they are. Didn’t I just bring each of them home from the hospital? The days are long – they’re so, so long – but these years are so short and they fly so fast. I don’t want to miss another minute of this special time because I’m too busy scrolling.
I feel like this post is making it sound like I’m quitting social media and going off the grid. I’m not. I’ve got a log of videos to edit (no Bach Bashes, sorry guys. I haven’t watched since episode 6, but I know the drama and I wish I hadn’t quit!!) as soon as I’m done editing the installation project I filmed in February and I want to get into blogging again. But like, old school blogging where you write whatever you want just because. Do you remember back in 2009 when everyone had family blogs and personal blogs and random, single college girls (hiiii!) would write every day about whatever they wanted? Do you remember when Instagram was still a baby in 2012 and everyone posted grainy food pictures with the Nashville filter because it looked like film? Do you remember when people stopped planning their pages and pre-meditating their posts?
I’m not trying to bash on creators and influencers. I’m grateful for them, I think I technically am one? They work hard, they’re good at what they do and they really do care about YOU. But lately I’ve felt like everybody is trying to be somebody online. I believe everyone has a story to share, but it’s hard when everyone is trying to share their story at the same time. Before you try to tell me to delete all the toxic people from IG, stop. I don’t follow them. My feed is filled with people I know, people I love and uplifting accounts. I’m here to say it’s possible to have ALL GOOD THINGS on your feed and STILL get sick of it. At some point, too much of a good thing is still too much. It’s like I’ve overdosed on baby carrots and my body is suffering from carotenemia and I’m turning orange.
I’m not giving up, I just need a break. I’m not going to lie and say, “It’s not you, it’s me.” Because it IS you and it IS me. I need to get to a better place with my consumption and not let it suck me back in and take me away from what matters. And, listen, if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like more grainy pictures of babies with puppies and captions talking about the weather.
01/ 23/ 2018
I don’t know what it is, but every time Cory goes out of town, I try really hard to cram our days with activities. Even though the only difference when he’s out of town is I’m alone during nights, I try to stay as busy as possible. Maybe I’m trying to wear the kids out so they sleep like rocks. Maybe I’m trying to be the fun parent. Maybe I just really wanted a Big Mac. No one knows.
Jude had dance today. It’s her third week and she’s just as excited as she was her first day. She jumped around all morning in anticipation. Dance ends at noon and like a total newb I took the kids to McDonald’s. Thankfully the play place wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be. It was mostly High School seniors and business people working through lunch under the golden arches.
Now I know what you’re thinking, “McDonald’s? Ew. Why didn’t she go to Chick-Fil-A?” Well, to answer your question, I like that McDonald’s has seating inside the play area. I can sit in the same room with my kids and write while I sip my DDP and eat fries before they get cold while my kids play for a few hours. Also, have you ever been inside a CFA play place? Like really been insiiiiide one? They smell like feet and three hundred sweaty toddlers with soft undertones of stale, unsalted waffle fries. It’s bad. When Zeke was a little over a year he got stuck before the big slide and couldn’t get down. I had to climb my way up to save him and the higher I got, the worse it smelled. The scent is a deadly combination on its own, but CFA play places are unnaturally humid which makes the air heavy, causing the stench to take on a solid form and become something you have to physically fight through. The higher you climb and the longer you play, the more the CFA air becomes part of you. I always require baths after play place play (let’s be honest, I require them every day), but you almost need a chemical decontamination after an afternoon at Chick-Fil-A. Just thinking about it makes me queasy. But HOT DANG, do they know how to make a good nugget/sauce combination.
Zeke has been stuck at the top of this playground for a good 15 minutes. He refuses help from anyone but keeps calling for me like Tarzan. My favorite part about playgrounds (with or without fries) is watching my kids make friends. All it takes is five minutes and a game of tag and according to Jude she has, “almost 39 friends to play with!” Kids are such good people. When they see someone in need, they stop to help. When they see someone crying, they stop to comfort. No judgement, no prejudice. Just kids running and playing and laughing.
The fries are past cold, I’ve started refilling my cup with water instead of soda, and the after-school snack groups are starting to trickle in. All obvious signs we’ve been here too long. But Zeke’s moved to the highest level of the playground and it’ll probably be another twenty minutes before he figures out how to get down. Just to be safe, if you could send up a quick prayer that I don’t have to climb this mini ropes course to get him, I’d really appreciate it.
Spoiler Alert: I had to climb it.
12/ 05/ 2017
The following excerpt is from a journal entry I wrote last month.
It has been four days and it still feels like a dream. Like the doctor’s office is going to call and say, “You’re not going to believe this, but we gave you the wrong results! Your levels went up not down! Everything’s okay. lololol.” But that kind of thing only happens on bad sitcoms and this is real life, not a sitcom.
I was five weeks pregnant with our fourth baby when I had my first miscarriage.
It doesn’t matter that I won’t make it to my first appointment, feel a flutter, or get to pick out a name. Grief doesn’t have requirements. Loss is loss. It doesn’t matter when, it doesn’t matter how. Heartbreak is personal and individual and real. This weekend, I lost my next baby and that has left a hole in my heart I can’t ever fill.
As soon as Cory and I saw those double pink lines, we started planning. We spent our nights talking about baby names and scheming summer plans around our July due-date. I told him as soon as we knew the gender, I was going to start buying bows and coordinating sister outfits for her and Jude, because it was a girl this time. It had to be a girl. On the off-chance it was a boy, we talked about getting a bunk bed for Ez and Zeke so there would be enough space for all three boys in their room.
On Tuesday I went to the library with the kids and on the drive back, I was hit with this giant whiff of freshly baked bread. I don’t know where it came from, but I texted Cory as soon as I got home and told him my need for homemade bread with strawberry freezer jam was REAL. I’ve never had cravings like that before. They hit me with such specific intensity. Cory came home that night with fresh bread and strawberry jam. If it weren’t for that loaf of bread and two positive pregnancy tests as proof that my pregnancy was real, I’d think last week was a dream.
I started last week pregnant and planning and so, so happy and ended it crumpled in bed because of the ache in my heart and the pain in my body.
The bleeding started on Thursday morning. I went to get my blood drawn that afternoon so we could check my HCG levels. The doctor’s office called me that afternoon and told me my levels were good. It was positive. I was pregnant. They told me to take it easy and reminded me to go back on Saturday to get my levels checked again. I feel awful admitting this, but despite having good levels, I didn’t have much hope they would rise. “I know what’s normal Cor. This isn’t normal. It doesn’t feel right.” As I said my prayers that night, I pleaded with Heavenly Father to please, please let this little baby know how loved she was. That, no matter the outcome, she was loved and it was okay. I asked Him to hold our baby and tell her that we were ready whenever she was.
On Friday I shut down.
I had to go back to the hospital on Saturday afternoon for my final blood draw. As the nurse finished up, I could feel tears start to form in my eyes. She was gone. I knew it. I could feel it in my heart. That final blood draw was the last thing I would do for her. My heart broke all over again.
I went to church on Sunday because I didn’t know what else to do. My physical pain had subsided and I knew I couldn’t let myself shut down again. As badly as I wanted to, I knew if I shut down on Sunday it would be easier to keep shutting down. I knew it would be easy to let my depression to take over and justify my downward spiral. And THIS felt very justifiable. With the help of Cory, a blessing and so many prayers, I picked myself up and did the dang thing. As I sit here and type this, I still can’t believe I did it. Cory was speaking in another ward, so it was just the kids and me sitting on our bench. I remember sitting in Sacrament meeting looking around and thinking, “Last week I was pregnant and no one knew. This week I’m not and no one knows. My whole world changed twice and no one has any idea.” It’s crazy how you can be surrounded by so many people and still feel so alone.
I waited until 10 o’clock on Monday morning before I called my doctor’s office for the results. The nurse sounded distracted and eager to get me off the line. She told me my levels went down.
“So, it was a miscarriage then?”
And that was that. I was so mad at her for making me ask. I didn’t want to ask, but I had to hear it. Even though I felt it, I wouldn’t believe it was true until I heard it.
I cried a lot today because I’m feeling the loss all over again. Despite this devastating heartache, I’m so grateful to have had some moments of peace. I have found peace in Cory’s voice, snuggles from Zeke, Ezra’s cheek-smushing hugs, and Jude running up to me, telling me she loves me. I know the only reason I’m able to feel this peace so soon is because of the gospel. I am so grateful for the promise and reality of eternal families. Cory and I believe with all our hearts we are going to be able to raise our sweet angel baby either on earth or in heaven. The timing may not have been right now, but it will be some day. One day we’ll get to hold our July baby and tell her how loved she is.
Until then, I’ll hold on with faith and hope for the promise of one day.
11/ 16/ 2017
Since I talked your ear off last time, I’ll try to keep it brief.
I’d never been to Downtown Disney before and I couldn’t believe how great it was! Their beignets are better (sorry not sorry, they are! More dough and less air. Mmmm.) than the ones in the actual park and the Lego store was a dream come TRUE for our kids. My only regret of the whole trip was that we didn’t do Downtown Disney one of the days we went to the park. I wish we’d done Jude’s Anna makeover before we got to meet our Arendelle girls. Next time! Even though she was only Anna-fied for Downtown Disney, all the employees called her Anna or Princess. Jude was in heaven. She even had us stop so Cory could take a picture of me meeting Anna. Jude-Anna was kind enough to give me posing lessons. What a sweetheart.
And, as always, it felt SO GOOD to be home. After being in a hotel room for nine days, our house felt like a palace. So much space! What luxury!! Now if only I could find a way to combine the comforts of my home with the housekeeping staff of a hotel. Then we’d be in business.
11/ 14/ 2017
It’s been a little over two months since our trip to Disneyland and I’m already craving a return trip. What I would give to walk down Main Street and be bombarded by the smell of fresh churros and buttery popcorn. With as far as technology has come, the lack of smell-ivision is really disappointing. But I guess we can thank technology for not being that advanced, because it was really hot those first few days and we were sweating buckets before we got into the park.
We went to the park with my parents, my sister and her family, and my two younger siblings. Going with so many people at different stages of life was a little crazy, but it was worth it. Disney runs through my Dad’s veins and seeing him in his favorite place with some of his favorite people was priceless. For the most part, the kids were a dream. We started early and partied at the parks until two or three every day. My parents graciously bought five-day passes for everyone, so we didn’t feel pressured to have marathon days in the park. We let the kids take the lead and followed their pace. We looked in store windows, explored alleyways and soaked up the magic of Disney. We went on the carousel first and Dumbo second. We made the mistake of going on the Snow White ride third which left all three of our kids in tears and afraid of any enclosed rides. We couldn’t even look at Peter Pan without one of them freaking out. You should have seen the sweet-talking we had to do to convince Jude ‘It’s a Small World’ was a happy ride with music and puppets. Why you gotta be so dark, Walt?!
California Adventure was our JAAAAAM. The kids were in heaven in Cars Land. The Disney Junior Dance Party gave me a look into what a toddler rave looks like and it’s straight up bananas. Jude and Ezra were at the perfect ages for Disney. Everything was real for them. They recognized the characters and could push through any discomfort with the heat and long lines. Like I said, the first few days were HOT and poor Ziggy felt it. We bought an overpriced Disney fan just to try to keep that little guy cool. Zeke was wary of most of the characters and had more fun playing with the regular cast members. I just want to take a moment to SHOUT OUT all of the Disney employees, but especially the “regular people.” They always chatted with Zeke and made him giggle while the big kids met their heroes. Disney makes it magic for everyone and I love them for that.
The last time I went to Disneyland, I was in my early twenties, single and in it for the big rides. Going with kids required a change of pace and mindset, but it’s one I’ll keep forever. It’s amazing how chill Disneyland can be when you’re not rushing around for fast passes or stressing over 60 minutes lines. Cory and I didn’t take advantage of the rider swap because we wanted to spend our time with the kids. Every morning was like Christmas for them and neither of us wanted to miss a thing. My parents watched all the grandkids for a night so the adults go out. Cory and I went on three rides (California Screamin’, Guardians of the Galaxy (RIP Tower of Terror), and Indiana Jones) before motion sickness set in. My inner-ear can’t keep its equilibrium like it used to. But we ended the night with a Monte Cristo (good! heavens!) and some garlic truffle pomme frites (GET IN MY BELLY). I’m convinced Disney food is the same food we’ll have in heaven. Don’t even get me started on the chocolate dipped vanilla cones at the Cozy Cone. Mmmmmmm.
Thanks for your patience while I go down memory lane. Here’s the video.
I’m not even going to apologize for my shrill mom voice. I was EXCITED, Y’ALL.
Can’t get enough Disney? Check out PART TWO HERE.
11/ 07/ 2017
Sometimes you film a vlog in the beginning of October and don’t get around to editing and posting it until the beginning of November. It’s fine. I’m fine.
I really enjoyed documenting this weekend and am considering doing this type of thing more often. If only to be better at documenting our regular life for posterity. But if we’re being honest, lifestyle vlogging is harder than it looks. I’m so used to being in the moment that it’s hard to remember to stop, take out my camera and film the moment. It makes me feel like a stage mom, but I love that we’ll have these memories forever. I would have never remembered Jude made up a play with the longest, weirdest name if I hadn’t filmed. I love pictures because of the memories they freeze, but having these videos is like being transported back into that moment. I never want to forget Ezra’s scratchy voice and Jude’s silly songs or the way Zeke stomp dances (this section had to be omitted because ‘Welcome to [The] York’ was playing and we all know how powerful Taylor is when it comes to her songs on YouTube. SO POWERFUL). I want to remember this time of my life with three kids three years old and younger. And if that means putting in a little more effort to document, I guess I’ll just have to deal. Because I don’t have camera crews following me around to document my life…YET!