A Year Older, A Little Wiser...
This is my very first letter to you. Well… not technically my first blog. I tried starting one during my m...
If you had told me this week would include daycare tears, baking ambitions, face masks and AFV marathons, wedding glam at Walmart, and lounging on a Scheels couch like we owned the place… I probably would’ve believed you. Because that’s just life lately.
It’s been loud, sweet, slightly chaotic, and somehow perfectly timed.
A new baby joined the daycare a couple of weeks ago, and it’s definitely been an adjustment, to say the least. There have been quite a few tears… some from the baby, and maybe a few internal ones from me. But that’s all part of it, right?
The silver lining? When the baby naps, we get the sweetest quiet moments. Peaceful art time, stacks of books read cover to cover, and a slower rhythm to the afternoon. And by the end of the day, when I finally sit down on the couch, I fall asleep almost instantly. A superpower I used to think was reserved exclusively for grandpas.
I keep thinking about the very first baby I enrolled in the daycare. He was so cute, they always are! But man, that little guy could scream. It took weeks of consistency, patience, and lots of cuddles before he started to settle in. And now? Months later, he walks in like he owns the place. He laughs, he plays, he feels at home. It feels like family.
So I’ll keep reminding myself to hang in there. One day soon, this little one will feel safe, comfortable, and completely at home too, and I’ll probably forget just how loud those first few weeks were.
Recently, I started a new project. I’ve decided it’s time to finally work on my very non-existent cooking skills. So I’m going on a journey, learning from some of the most talented and inspiring women in my life. Someone recently told me, “You’re a good cook if you have the desire and the passion.” It reminded me of the saying, “Anyone can cook.” And while that sounds sweet… I think we all know it’s not quite that simple. (Sorry, Disney.)
The truth is, so many amazing cooks I know seem like they’ve always just had it. That natural instinct in the kitchen? That’s never really been me. But I want it to be. I want to be the woman who amazes people with a freshly baked cake, or makes the kind of chocolate chip cookies no one forgets. I want to be the one who makes the meal someone didn’t even realize they needed.
So I’ll practice. And practice. And probably mess up a few times. But I’ll keep going until I get there.
If you’re like me — desperately wanting to be the Martha Stewart type but feeling a little more like Linguini — join me on this journey. Let’s learn together.
Ally and I had a spa night the other evening, and it turned into the kind of simple, carefree night that somehow became a core memory for me. Like I said last week, sometimes an empty evening is the very best kind. We made big bowls of buttery popcorn, smoothed on face masks, painted our nails in mismatched colors, and settled in for episode after episode of AFV (America’s Funniest Home Videos).
Ally had never seen it before, which made it feel even more special. Like introducing someone to a tiny piece of your childhood. Watching her react to the dramatic slow motion falls and that unmistakable early 2000s humor had us laughing harder with each clip. By the end of the night, we were doubled over, tears in our eyes, completely transported back to our Riverdale living room from years ago.
We kept saying, “Just one more,” until suddenly we were both half asleep on the couch, the TV still glowing in the background, completely unaware of what time we had actually gone to bed. It was cozy and nostalgic and wonderfully unproductive, the kind of night you don’t plan but end up treasuring.

Jamin (my boyfriend) and I went to a wedding this past weekend, one of his best friends was married and sealed in the Bountiful Temple. It was such a beautiful day from beginning to end. We started with temple pictures in the morning, then gathered for a family lunch, and later celebrated at the reception that evening. The whole day felt full in the best way.
In between the lunch and the reception, a few of us made a quick run to Walmart to grab decorations so the groomsmen could properly send the newlyweds off in style. And for some reason, Walmart felt unusually glamorous that afternoon. People kept complimenting us on how dressed up we were. We really should have taken pictures because, honestly, we did look great and we don’t dress up like that very often. At least I dont.
After that, we had about three and a half hours to spare, so we went to Scheels to pass the time. I think I’ve only been there twice in my life. Once when I was maybe seven or eight, and then again the other day. It was exactly how I remembered it. The Ferris wheel and everything. We wandered through every section like we were seriously considering buying camping gear or athletic equipment, fully committed to the browsing experience. Somehow we still finished with an hour to spare, so we claimed one of the couches in the living space section, and sat there talking and laughing until it was finally time for the reception.
I always forget that this time of year is peak wedding season! We have another one next weekend, and possibly one after that. Love must really be in the air. Tis the season, I guess.
I love weddings so much, especially the really joyful ones where you can feel how loved the couple is. Being there reminded me of my dear friend Emma’s wedding. It was one of those days I’ll remember forever. The food, the company, the dancing… everything about it felt so full and happy. It was perfect in that way weddings sometimes are, and I’m sure she’d agree.
When I look back on weeks like this, I realize how much beauty lives in the in between. In the crying baby who will one day feel at home. In the meals that might not turn out perfect yet. In the couch conversations, the wedding dances, the ordinary errands that somehow feel special because of who you’re with. It’s a season of growing in patience, in skill, in love, in memory making. And even when it feels loud or imperfect, I wouldn’t trade it.
Thanks for being here and walking through these little pieces of life with me.

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