happiness is now

Earlier this week, Sam and I loaded all the kids in the car and drove to the park. It was only 77 degrees, which is almost unheard of for the middle of May in Arizona, and such a beautiful, breezy day.

At one point we took a walk around the lake, with the twins in the stroller and Claire running around looking at the ducks.

At one point we had a sack lunch (these pictures are of a park date a few weeks ago when we brought ice cream). The babies tried to snack on the grass as well, and were not thrilled that we said no.

PHOTOS BY KYLIE POND

At one point we held hands, until Claire tried to interrupt us and hold our hands. We said no at first, mainly because we still like to pretend we're in charge at our house (ha), but eventually we let go in favor of the 1-2-3-swing! game she so likes to play.

At one point we put the twins in the same baby swing, with one twin facing each way. They both love the swing, and it creaked along with our babies for a good fifteen minutes.

At one point Claire worked up the courage to go on the zip line, and loved it so much she did it five times in a row. I think I'll always remember her big belly laughs after a year straight of trying to be brave enough for that zip line.

At one point we all got sand in our shoes, and had to shake our feet like maniacs as we watched the sand fall out of our sandals in soft sheets on the sidewalk.

At one point Claire fussed because we told her it was time to go, and Lincoln fussed because he bonked his head on the metal part of the swing, and Addison fussed because we wouldn't let her eat the grass.

At one point, watching the babies grinning and Claire laughing and Sam making everyone happy, I had a very clear thought in my mind.

"Happiness is now."

I've always known happiness has little to do with my financial/ work/ living circumstances, but on that day I realized it has absolutely nothing to do with that. Happiness is 0% related to whether or not I have the perfect job. Happiness is 0% related to whether we're currently renting or owning. Happiness is 0% related to what others think of my life choices, or my success online, or whether I'm twenty pounds heavier or lighter, or what car I drive.

Happiness is right here, and happiness is right now.

Heaven is right here and right now.

Love, God, forgiveness, grace, and the ability to be happy regardless of your current circumstances is right here and right now.

And that tiny burst of clarity made me cry a little, standing there in the middle of the park pushing a creaky swing.

Then we went home, and the regular chaos of trying to get three small humans down for a nap at the same time ensued, and our day continued as normal. But since then, things have been a little lighter. A little easier. A little less confusing in a very confused world.

Because happiness is right here and right now.

WE DID IT // at the end of grad school

The end of grad school is finally here! The family is in town, Claire is excited out of her mind about all the grandparent time, and Sam and I will inevitably spend a frustrating twenty minutes watching YouTube tutorials when trying to get his darn robe and hood on correctly this afternoon.

Sam is such a behind-the-scenes guy, but when commencement, convocation, his birthday, and family in town all fall into the same few days, it just kind of becomes his party week. And that deserves a shout-out.

This guy earned two masters degrees (TWO MASTERS DEGREES) in less than two years. The last two years could easily be measured by how many hours (and hours and hours and hourrrrrrs) he put in on campus, studying, doing group projects and going to class. He was gone from 8 a.m. to 10:30 p.m. a good portion of this year, plus many Saturday classes throughout the last two years as well.

But also, the last two years could be measured by how many times he came straight home and switched to dad mode before he even had a chance to take his shoes off. It could be measured by one million games of hide and seek with Claire, one million hours spent holding twins, one million diapers changed and dishes scrubbed and backs rubbed. Sam is such a gentle, loving, and involved dad, and he took our surprise twins and having three kids in two years with such grace and quiet hard work.

But that's not the only way I remember the past two years. For me, it's also his part-time job that he somehow found time to do on top of everything else.

It's the hours we spent fixing our terribly old and broken green van together.

It's the tissues and glasses of cold water he brought me when I was on bedrest with the twins and crying from the frustration and pain of it all.

It's when he spent his precious down time taking pictures or helping me with content creation for work deadlines I had coming up.

It's all the times he set everything else aside to gather us for family scriptures and prayer.

It's the hours and hours of church service he quietly did over the past two years.

You guys, Sam is an absolute rockstar. Of course if you try to tell him that, he'll shrug it off with some kind of joke, as if being infinitely capable and hard-working is just one of the many remarkable things he does every day. I am so proud of him, and I love him to death.

We did it! And today, we are celebrating.

Photos by Kylie Pond.

love in the middle

Blogging is a tricky thing. It's sunny-side-up. We share the happy things, the exciting things, the celebrations. I strongly believe in focusing on the good in any situation, and on the positive power gratitude and happiness has when it's shared - whether we're sharing it to ourselves, to one close friend, or to the great wide Internet.

But, as we know, life isn't always sunny-side-up. I guarantee that every single blogger, like every single human being in the world, has their hard times, their struggles, their everyday trials and inadequacies and failures that don't always make it on the blog.

It's a hard, hard balance. I want to maintain a positive and happy space that people want to come and read, but I also want to be genuine and authentic about the hard times. I want to share some current struggles our family is having, but I also want to maintain the privacy of the people I love most.

So let me just say we are almost done with our grad school journey, and we are emerging so happy to have done it, but with a few broken edges, a few cracks and chips. We've known all along that we are exactly where we need to be, doing exactly what we need to be doing, but lately Sam and I just seem to be a little stretched thin, a little tired. It's the kind of tired a good night's sleep doesn't cure.

After two years of not having a reliable car that fits our family, we're feeling a little caged in, a little stir crazy. After two years of conflicting schedules and rarely paying for a date night babysitter, we're feeling a little far apart. After two years of budgeting and rebudgeting, we're feeling so starkly the need for a regular full-time income. After two years of having three children in very quick succession, we're feeling a little drained (a lot drained, actually). After two years of each working side jobs and weekend jobs and late-into-the-night jobs, we're feeling like we need a break.

And then there's the job hunt. Sam's in the middle of finding a job after graduation, and it has been so stressful on our whole family. The pressure he feels to land the perfect position, at the perfect company, in the perfect area, with the perfect starting salary, is enormous. The pressure he feels to just take any job that will get us food on the table is enormous.

I remember so clearly a recent Thursday night when Sam came home from work. It was 10:30 p.m., and I was exhausted, but still up with a fussy teething twin. I was walking and bouncing Lincoln up and down our small apartment hallway in the dim light, wearing my old glasses and my messy pony tail and my tired arm muscles.

Sam walked in, put his backpack down, kicked off his shoes, and came to lean against the wall near me. We exchanged a few whispered words of greeting and he kissed Lincoln's almost-asleep forehead.

I finally summoned my courage to breach the subject I'd been wondering about all afternoon. "How was the interview?" I whispered.

He looked at me the way we've looked at each other so many times during this hard grad school time of our life. I knew the answer immediately when I saw that look.

"It's a no," he whispered back.

I nodded. We looked at each other for a second. I tried to give him something resembling a reassuring smile. He tried to give one back.

And that was that. I put a now-sleeping Lincoln back in his crib, Sam changed out of his work clothes, and it was bedtime. But as that was happening, I kept thinking of a tiny phrase from an old song I used to listen to.

"Love in the middle."

It's easy to love when the times are good; when we have a job, financial security, no teething babies, a daily routine that doesn't drastically change every eight weeks, two working cars. It sure will be easy to talk about persevering through the trial of finding a job after Sam has signed somewhere.

But in the middle? When the happy ending isn't here yet? That's the hard time to show love, and that's when love really counts. And that's when I've been amazed at the incredible compassion Sam has shown me all throughout our marriage. When I tell him about a choice or plan I made in regards to work, church service, school, future plans, housekeeping, parenting, or anything else, he always supports me. He is constantly giving me the benefit of the doubt. He is constantly cutting me slack. He is constantly forgiving me. He is constantly loving me, despite it all, through it all, in the middle of it all.

And love in the middle is the hardest kind of love.

__________________

Sam's compassion has brought me so much peace, and has brought us both closer to the greatest example of compassion I know, my Savior Jesus Christ. Please join me in visiting mormon.org to learn more about eight principles of peace Jesus Christ embodied as we prepare for the Easter season.

This personal essay was shared as part of a sponsored post with mormon.org. To learn how to have more peace in your life, click here or click the ad in my sidebar. #PrinceofPeace

the greatest surprise of my life

I'm a planner. Big decisions in our house are always thought out, discussed at length, usually a pro-con list is involved, and then my poor husband has to wait while I go back and forth about our choice a million times, and then I finally decide and we move forward.

Choosing to marry Sam was a decision that took forever to make (actually, Sam was 100% on board two weeks after we started dating, and it was me who needed much more time). Choosing to start a family was another choice that took months to make, and literally hundreds of late-night discussions and prayers and seeking guidance from people whose opinion we value most. Quitting teaching for now - same process. Choosing my husband's grad school program. Choosing to move our family to Arizona. To raise my husband's little brother for two and a half years. All these big choices in our life took months and months and months to decide.

Which is why I keep thinking about what happened a little over a year ago. The day we had the biggest surprise of our lives and learned we were having twins.

*Photos by Hillarie Mae Photography

It's one of those moments I think I'll always remember. I knew I was pregnant - and had been SUPER sick. This pregnancy felt SO different (read: harder in every way) from my last, so I thought it must be a boy instead of a girl this time? I also started showing at 10 weeks, which in hindsight was another fairly obvious clue.

The ultrasound technician was just so casual when she broke the news at my first ultrasound. Within five seconds, when everything on the screen was still grainy and blurry and grey to me, she said in an offhand manner, "You're having twins."

I laughed at her. "No I'm not," I assured her.

One second passed in silence while I stared dumbly at the screen. Then another one. Then another one. Then my brain caught up.

"Are you serious?! I'm actually having twins??! There are two babies in there?!?!?!? You're serious?" This went on for at least 10 minutes. I was crying and laughing and half sure it was some sort of elaborate trick.

More of the same absolute disbelief and shock and happiness continued when Sam and I called and Skyped our parents that night with the big news. And then we were up until midnight thinking about how crazy our lives were about to be. And then we both ended up awake again at 3:30am, lying in bed thinking about it more.

Because twins? They were NEVER on the radar. Nobody in my family has twins. We weren't using fertility drugs that increase the chance of twins. I thought about having twins the same amount of times I thought about the quadratic equation or how often luxury cars should be serviced or political elections in Indonesia. NEVER! I never think about any of those things, and I never ever seriously considered having twins.

For a major planner like me, it was a big scary thing. An incredibly exciting and happy thing, and something we didn't take for granted, but a big and scary thing nonetheless. Nothing had been accounted for. It was not in the plan, and all the implications were new and scary and huge.

Everything changed.

We had to move. We really liked our two-bedroom apartment with the tall ceilings and the huge patio, but the thought of three small children on different sleep schedules sharing the same bedroom was just too much. So we moved to a place with a third bedroom.

We had to buy another car. We literally could not fit three carseats in the back of our Corolla (you should have seen us out in the 107-degree heat with three carseats trying all possible configurations though - it was a valiant effort), so we bought a van.

Sam changed his internship. He was looking at some really alluring out-of-state summer internships for his graduate program, but when we learned that we were having twins right in the middle of the summer (with insurance that only worked in-state) he dropped those leads and found a local internship instead.

And that's how the rest of my pregnancy went. It was a whirlwind of prepping everything, changing everything, and surviving modified bedrest. I couldn't wrap my mind around how to hold two infants at the same time, let alone how I was supposed to care for them (plus a toddler who would be barely two years old) while my husband was gone all day.

In short, a lot of time was spent stressing and planning for the worst and just trying to get through a terrible pregnancy. There were moments when I felt overwhelmed with love and excitement for the miraculous blessings that babies are, but to be quite honest my feelings were usually more practical, preparatory and pessimistic.

And then the twins came, and I got the biggest surprise of all.

I love it.

I love having twins.

Like, I really really love it.

I had forgotten how sweet the newborn smell is. I had forgotten how sweet the squishy, warm, cuddly newborn stage is. I had forgotten how much babies sleep when they're brand new.

Discovering the tiny, strong, amazing, different personalities that my twins had from day one was nothing short of amazing.

I also had so much more help than I had planned for, and that made all the difference. With my first, nobody ever came for more than an hour to help (we only had one child then and lived in the same state as our family so we saw them more often overall). With the twins, I had family staying with me around the clock and helping for the entire month of July, almost all of August, and a good chunk of September too. It was so fantastic. I got more sleep with newborn twins and a toddler than I ever had with my first simply because of all the great help I had.

It was also crazy how much more confident Sam and I felt as parents. We worried so much less about the tiny things. We already knew each other's parenting strengths and weaknesses and philosophies. Things like figuring out how to use a breast pump or how to bathe a tiny human with no muscle strength weren't huge deals because I had done it all before.

I had no postpartum depression this time around, and that right there has made the biggest difference of all in how I perceived and handled and felt about everything.

Was it still hard? YES. Very hard. Everything that's hard about having a baby is twice as hard when you have twins. Trying to plan our schedule around their naps (or else powering through naptime and dealing with two very fussy babies), trying to get a toddler to adjust to two babies who constantly need mom, trying to get the twins on the same schedule, trying to get one twin to sleep through it when the other twin fusses, and dealing with double the diapers and bottles and messes and spit up and sleep deprivation are all very real struggles.

But even so, even in the hardest of moments -- when all three children are crying, the floor is littered with spit-up rags, Sam won't be home for hours and hours, and I would sell my soul for one twenty-minute nap -- even then, I surprise myself with how much I love my twinners.

I can't imagine life without them. I can't even imagine them coming as singleton children, a few years apart. I can't imagine them not having their other half, their built-in best friend, their snuggle buddy, and the only constant they've ever known.

I love that they still hold hands all the time. I love that strangers are way more friendly and kind and talkative when you're out with twins. I love how different my twins are. I love that they balance each other out completely. I love that Claire has a brother and a sister. I love their tiny perfect little bodies and gummy grins and budding personalities.

So I guess the biggest surprises can also be the best ones. That or I should constantly brace myself for the worst so I'll be pleasantly surprised when things turn out better. ;)

Happy almost-six-months to my darling Lincoln and Addison. You are my greatest and happiest surprise.

about vulnerability

I almost deleted this entire set of pictures as soon as I uploaded them. 

They were all taken in two short minutes (literally the timestamps go from 12:46pm to 12:48pm), when my daughter was reveling in the glory of her new "big girl bed" and my husband had a second to play with her. I grabbed my camera and clicked away, trying to capture these darling moments when they happened.

And in my rush, I didn't double check my settings, so my shutter speed was too slow, resulting in lots and lots of blur. As in, almost every picture was blurry, or just not as sharp as my pictures normally are.

My first instinct was to throw out the batch - yes, they were capturing authentic moments that were precious to me, but I felt I failed as a photographer, so what was the point in keeping them?

But I made myself keep them. And even more, I'm making myself post them (still feeling majorly vulnerable about this!). It's taken me a while, but I'm really trying so hard to let go of the insane ideal of perfection. Because done is better than perfect, and in this case, documented forever is better than without an ounce of blur.

A favorite quote from Brene Brown (my vulnerability guru - listen to this TED talk to start) is, "Perfectionism is a twenty-ton shield that we lug around thinking it will protect us when, in fact, it's the thing that's really preventing us from flight." 

So here you go. Blurry, wonderful, highly imperfect pictures taken by an imperfect, wonderful, highly flawed photographer. I love the motion and the movement and the personality captured.

Anyone else trying to live the mantra that done is better than perfect?

I'd love to hear something you're trying to let yourself be more vulnerable about.

And please be kind about these blurry pictures!

Although I'm going to stand by them even if you're not kind, because I'm trying.

every parent needs their one thing

I'm a firm believer that every parent needs one thing. Well, two things if you count an emergency chocolate stash. I'm not here to talk about a chocolate stash, but every parent should probably have one of those as well. ;)

Parents need at least one thing that doesn't involve being a parent.

We love our kids. We really do. We love watching them grow up and meet exciting milestones and experience things for the first time. As you can tell from the content of my posts, my kids are a huge part of my life. It's a choice I made, it's a choice I love, and it's a choice I wouldn't change for anything.

But the truth is your daily sphere of influence shrinks a lot when you're a stay-at-home mom (or dad). It can be incredibly lonely, isolating and terrifying to just be home with the kids. If the only thing you're involved with is your children, it's easy to feel stretched thin and frustrated on the days when it seems like all your children do is whine and make mess after mess. Anyone would feel grumpy and depressed after long days of children teething or refusing naps or fighting with their siblings!

That's why every parent needs at least one thing that's completely separate from their role as a parent.

I learned this the hard way. When I had my first child and my job fell through at the last second, I thought it was a sign I wasn't supposed to work. But it wasn't just that I was unemployed. I wasn't leaving the house, I wasn't getting much adult interaction, I was barely involved in my church community, and I definitely wasn't happy. It's so easy to stay home in your own rapidly shrinking bubble, providing for your child but neglecting all other aspects of your personal life and emotional health. That's what I was doing, and I was incredibly depressed. In fact, I didn't start being happy until I started working part-time six months later. 

You see, my one thing is working. I love getting a babysitter for the kids and utilizing a completely different skillset. I love solving problems, interacting with other professionals in my field, and contributing financially to my family. First I worked as an educator, and now I work as a blogger and influencer, but for me the bottom line is that I'm working. It's what I'm passionate about, and what makes me fulfilled.

It doesn't have to be a job. That's just my thing. One of my best friends is very involved in her church community, and her thing is creating the most amazing, insightful sermons to teach every Sunday. Another friend is a beautiful singer, and her thing is singing professionally with a local choir on Wednesday nights. Another friend loves to try new and complicated recipes, and bakes delicious intricate desserts. I know moms who are super involved with book clubs or running in races or thrifting. 

It doesn't matter what your thing is, how much time it takes up, or whether it generates income. It just matters that your thing is separate from being a parent, and that it makes you excited. It's about creating balance, variety, and interaction in your life. It's about using skill sets you don't always utilize as a parent.

I've taken an unofficial poll among people I know who have children. Guess what? 100% of them feel like a better parent when they have do something besides being a parent. 

I know I'm a much more patient and loving mom when I have that balance in my life - that chance to step back from the diapers and fussing infants and toothpaste smeared on my bathroom counter. When I get done working, this magical thing happens. I realize I missed my children! And I really really like them! And the toothpaste on the counter isn't a big deal - it's just a little toothpaste. I'm happy to snuggle them, play with them and change their diapers the rest of the day.

So I guess, if I were to give advice to people about to become parents, I would say this: Becoming a parent is the best. You will love it. But find your one thing (or two things, or three things!). Find what makes you happy, fulfilled, and excited, and don't give up on it. You'll be surprised how much of a better parent it makes you. 

Photos showing glimpses of work and home by Photography Hill

I'd love to hear from you about this (especially if you mostly stay at home with your kids).

What is your "thing" besides being a parent?

Do you feel it adds to or detracts from your experience as a mom or dad?

And when does having a side hobby start being detrimental for your life as a parent?

the sanctity of the midnight shift

It's 2:45am, and one of the twins is crying. I know without looking it's Lincoln, although admittedly it took me about a week to tell their cries apart. I scoop him out of the crib, and then scoop up Addison with my other arm (picking up two infants at the same time is another skill it took me about a week to figure out).

The usual routine ensues: I head to the living room, switch on the small light in the corner, set the babies in the twin feeding pillow, and pull out the bottles. Tonight (or rather, this morning) I find Sam has marked Addie's bottle with a dry erase marker, so I know it's her turn for the pumped breastmilk and Link's turn for the formula.

I feed the babies for a few minutes, burp one baby, burp the other baby, repeat. It's only been four weeks, but already I feel I can do this in my sleep (and half the time, I'm convinced I am asleep during the 3am feeding). Normally, I turn on Netflix to keep me awake, but for some reason I leave the TV off tonight. It gives me time to just watch my babies, and listen to the cicadas outside.

Now it's 3:10am. Addie is falling asleep with the bottle in her mouth, and Link has drained his. I get up and make him two more ounces.

My neighbor has Christmas lights strung up on her porch, and seeing a glimpse of those lights through a crack in the blinds makes me think of another time I was up at 3am. The time my mom was dying.

Towards the end, when my mom needed around-the-clock care and monitoring, we would take shifts during the night. Any time spent with my mom became very precious when she was diagnosed, but perhaps the midnight shift was the most precious to me.

Now it's 3:20 and both babies have finished eating, so I'm changing diapers. But I'm still thinking about the midnight shift with my mom. I remember sitting in that incredibly ugly, incredibly comfortable blue recliner next to my mom's hospice bed. I remember looking at the Christmas lights that were strung on the tree outside the window. But most of all I remember listening to my mom's snores.

Now it's 3:25 and I'm wrapping up the twins in their swaddle blankets.

I used to sync my breaths with my mom's long, even snores during the midnight shift. In, out, in out. Each breath was another moment granted to our shared existence, another second that we got to be alive at the same time. If 19 years with my mother was all I was going to get, I wanted to remember every last breath. So I spent the midnight shift curled up, breathing slowly, counting snores.

Now it's 3:30am and both babies are sleeping. Or so I think, until one of them starts to fuss when I pick them up. I don't even really register which baby it is. I just pick them up and pace the living room a few times while I rock back and forth, whispering quietly to my baby.

I think about other people who might be awake at this quiet, dark hour. Police officers responding to distress calls. Nurses making sure their patients don't have a lapse in medication. Air traffic controllers with their headsets and huge computer monitors. Spouses fetching a throw up bowl and a glass of cold water for their significant other. New parents and old parents and people who just can't sleep because they're worried about someone they love.

And suddenly, the midnight shift seems almost sacred. There's a special sanctity in giving up your sleep, one of the body's most essential functions, for the health and well-being of someone you love. It feels special, sacred, and almost holy to put someone's needs above your own, to defer your schedule for the schedule of someone who needs you. I feel connected to people around the world taking the proverbial midnight shift.

Now it's 3:35am, and I'm tucking both twins into their crib. I make sure to lay them down close together, snuggled up just the way they like it. I whisper a little prayer of gratitude as I climb into bed - gratitude for my comfortable bed and the promise of sleep, but also gratitude for midnight shifts. For the midnight shifts I spent with my mom, the midnight shifts I spend with my twins, and for the sanctity of people everywhere, taking the midnight shift to make our world a little better.

the adjustment phase

Right now, Claire is napping, the twins are having wiggle time on the carpet, and this seems like as good a time as any to write about how we're adjusting as a family with three kids under three.

The honest truth? It has been SO MUCH BETTER than I ever thought. Or hoped. Or dreamed. I guess I spent my entire pregnancy thinking that the newborn stage would be terrible: that I'd never sleep again, that everyone in my family would hate each other at the beginning, that I would have to hunker down and re-emerge into society three years later.

In short: I was convinced the transition from one to three children would be way harder than the transition from zero to one child. Boy was I wrong.

I haven't talked about this much on the blog, but when I had Claire, things were really hard for a long time. I was in the emergency room for a while, nursing was the absolute hardest and least natural thing for me, I was NOT good about letting things go or accepting help or sleeping when the baby was sleeping, and on top of it all, I had an undiagnosed case of postpartum depression. In short, I was head-over-heels in love with my daughter, but everything else in my life fell apart for a while.

This time around, it has been much smoother and happier.

I attribute this solely to my family that's been trickling in to help over the past month. Having someone to take the twins while I nap, or entertain Claire during the day has been fantastic. I don't know how I convinced them to come to Arizona during the miserable hot time of year and do nothing but change diapers and wash my dishes, but they came and I'll love them forever for it. Their help that first week really helped our transition be calm and smooth and happy.

My recovery has been much better this time around too. I was expecting a loooong c-section recovery, but I'm actually feeling good. No complications this time around! And I can't even tell you how much nicer it is to have these babies on the outside of me than on the inside.

Nursing has been going much better this time too. I pump between every feeding, and then bottle feed the twins. I switch off who gets breast milk and who gets formula with every feeding (Addison needs at least 50% special formula anyway because she's so tiny and struggling to gain weight, so it works out nicely.) Plus, this way I can bottle feed both twins at the same time and keep them on the same schedule. It also makes it easy for other people to feed them. I realize some moms might have done it differently, but I'm really happy to have found a solution that works for our family so early on.

That being said, on my first morning alone with the kids, I had this moment. Claire was on her tenth tantrum of the morning, and it was just barely 8:00AM. Both twins were crying. Claire was crying. And I just looked around and started crying too. Ha!

So sometimes there's crying, and sometime's there's sleepless nights, and it definitely took me three days to finish this blog post, but overall, we are happy. And that's a very good thing.

Thank you so much for all your concerns and well wishes these past two weeks!

Anything else you've been wondering about the twins or how we're doing?

at the end of year one

The end of Sam's first year of grad school is officially over. We did it! We did the first year! Today we are CELEBRATING. Because we survived! It was a really hard year, and we did it!

Here's the thing: we signed up for this. Literally. We wanted this. We made a conscious choice to move our family out of state and sacrifice a full-time income for two years and continue to grow our family during this crazy time. We planned and prepared for this. But still, it's been hard.

So today we're celebrating the fact that it was hard, but we did it anyway.

We survived living so far away from family! Not having someone to call when your car breaks down or your need a last-minute babysitter is tough. We've learned to rely on ourselves and our ward family more than ever before. (Our ward friends are amazing: they've watched Claire, thrown baby showers for us, and even driven us to the airport at 4:45AM one morning. We lucked out!)

We survived the first two-thirds of this crazy twin pregnancy! We were planning on my productivity to be at 100% during the first year of grad school, and most days I feel like I'm lucky to be at 35 or 40%. A lot of things fall through the cracks. But that's okay! We get twins at the end of this! And we're still alive! And occasionally the laundry gets done!

Sam survived being away from Claire all day every day! Sometimes they only see each other for about 10 minutes in the mornings before he leaves. That's really really hard on him. But he did it! Plus we see him more and more each quarter. And we've learned to take full advantage of the time we have together. Somehow he's still the favorite parent, so there's that....

We survived financial worries! Not having a full-time income is really hard. Budgeting and re-budgeting and living in fear that an unexpected expense will pop up is a new kind of stress I wouldn't wish on anyone. But we did it! And we both worked hard and earned part-time incomes this year, which has been SUCH a blessing.

We survived church callings and other responsibilities! Until last week, I was the young women's president at my church. My girls are so incredibly strong and independent and grown-up and beautiful. They've worked hard for every single thing they have, and many of them are already leaders in their home. I can't say enough about the things I've learned from them. It was so sad when I got released last week. But at the same time, it's also a very needy ward, and between bedrest and everything else, I was literally making myself sick trying to do it all. I think I had two weeks (only two out of the whole 9 months!) where I didn't have a girl in some sort of crisis. But I survived, and loved it, and learned so much!

Unexpectedly, this has been a good year for our marriage. Don't get me wrong, we still have days where we never see each other, and when we do spend time together we end up stressing out and snapping at the other person about the dishes and wondering how long it's been since we went to bed at the same time. But still, those days are much more rare than I thought. We've come to rely on each other and draw on each other's strengths more than ever. We're proud of each other for everything we're doing. I was worried this year would strain our marriage, but it's actually been good for us.

(Incidentally, the hardest year on our marriage was the first year of Claire's life, when I had postpartum depression but didn't realize it for the longest time. Bless Sam for fighting through that year with me.)

One quick shout-out to the man behind this blog: Sam is amazing. He works so hard. He's halfway through two masters degrees in two years! And he's doing a great job in his program! All while working! And doing church stuff! And being an amazing, involved dad! Sam is the world's best-kept secret, and I mean that. I'm so proud of him.

And now I'm going to make us go out for ice cream at an absurdly early hour. Because we're halfway through grad school, and we are CELEBRATING!

wearing my brave and my beautiful

This is my first spring in Arizona, so the day I had been avoiding came much earlier than I'm used to. The temperature (and the temperature of our community pool) was climbing slowly higher and higher each day. One day, it reached 97° outside on a Saturday afternoon, and I knew it was time.

I grabbed my maternity swimsuit, closed the bathroom door, and stood in front of the mirror. I took in my gigantic pregnant-with-twins belly, filled with light stretch marks from my last pregnancy that are just starting to become prominent again. I took in my size large body, with my size extra-large belly, and all my curves and angles from head to toe. I did a slow 360, looking over my shoulder to see exactly what I looked like in my swimsuit.

And then I looked myself straight in the eye.

"Brooke," I said out loud to the mirror, "What kind of mom do you want to be?

"You're the mother of a toddler girl. Do you want her to grow up watching you on the sidelines of the pool, too self-conscious to jump in and swim? Do you want to be the mom who finds a shaded corner and curls up on a chair, unwilling to take off her cover-up? Do you want to be the mom who avoids the pool altogether because she's too embarrassed?

"Do you want your daughter to learn that what her body looks like is more important than what her body is capable of doing?

"Or, do you want to be the opposite kind of mom? Do you want to be the mom who jumps right in and splashes around with her children? Do you want to be the mom who is confident in her knowledge that, at the end of the day, true beauty has so little to do with physical appearance at all? Do you want to be the mom who uses her body in the most beautiful of ways: by playing with and teaching and helping her children?

"Do you want to be the mom who listens to her fearful and self-conscious thoughts, or do you want to be the mom who listens to her brave and important thoughts?"

And then I took a deep breath. And then another one, just for good luck. And then I turned away from the mirror and went to the pool with my daughter. I took off my cover-up and bared my swimsuit body and all its imperfections, and I played with my toddler in the water.

There were a lot of other moms there, too. More than I thought, considering it's still pretty early in the season for seasoned Arizona locals to start frequenting the pool. I saw a mom there in a neon pink bikini, freshly manicured toes, and a tanned, stretch-mark-free stomach. I saw a mom wearing a more modest suit, with thick straps, a higher neckline, and a swim skirt. I saw a mom wearing a plain blue t-shirt over her swimsuit. I saw a mom that was probably size 00, and a mom that was probably size 20.

But guess what? Mostly, I just saw moms there, swimming with their children. They were wearing their witness to themselves, to their children, and to the world that they are much, much more than what they look like in a swimsuit. They were wearing their strong, and their brave, and their beautiful.

And that is my commitment to myself for the rest of the swimming season this year. I am going to wear my swimsuit body with pride, and choose my brave and important over my afraid and insecure. And I'm going to splash and laugh with my daughter in the pool. 

instead of to-do lists

This weekend combined a little of the best with a little of the worst (isn't that always how it goes?). Just when I thought I was getting out of the woods with my morning sickness, another onslaught came, and at this point it looks like it's here to stay forever. Luckily, I got lots of time to rest this weekend, and spent more than a few minutes marveling that 20 tiny fingers on two tiny babes each formed their own tiny fingerprints this week. We had a great stake conference this weekend. (Side note: We tried out the kids room on Sunday, with the assumption that Claire would happily run about while we quietly listened. Bad idea! It was chaos and craziness times a million. And now we know it's easier to wrangle one busy toddler in a quiet room than try to survive twelve of them screaming at once in the nursery room. Sure made for lots of laughs during those two hours though.) We got to see some good friends this weekend, and just relax and enjoy the feeling of being with people you already know well. 

I like to be a mover and a shaker, someone who gets up early and stays up late and goes goes goes. With this pregnancy, and with everything else lately, I've had to slow way way down. And I'm making a conscious effort to find health, happiness and fulfillment in the slower pace, in the simplified life. After all, the things that are most important are right in front of me, and no amount of running around or adding things to my to-do list make me happier. 

In fact, I've stopped making to-do lists altogether. Instead, I'm making "DONE" lists. At the start of each morning, I grab a blank piece of paper and write DONE at the top. Throughout the day, I add to it everything I've done. 

Guess what? Even on the days when I think I've been totally useless, I'm getting a lot done! I feed, bathe, and clothe my daughter every day. I almost always feel well enough to take her on a small walk, or sit on the park bench and watch while she runs around. I do a lot of work for my calling, almost every single day. Sometimes I do the dishes. Sometimes I capture beautiful images for my blog. Sometimes I make dinner. On Tuesdays, I babysit my friends' kids. Almost always, I take a nap while Claire naps, and that helps with one of the biggest items on my "DONE" list: I'm growing two babies, every single day! 

Honestly, my "DONE" lists have really changed my perspective. In this crazy time of life, when I've cut back on blogging, and when my photography business is on semi-permanent hiatus, it's easy to feel that my days are less structured and mundane. I'm also the least patient sick person in the world, and so I get mad at my body for not being able to grow two babies and feel well and do everything I used to do all at the same time. And isn't that so silly? Just typing out that sentence makes me realize how silly I am about slowing down and focusing on what's really important.

Good thing I have those DONE lists, and good thing I have Sam to pick up all my slack, and good thing I have such an amazing support network near and far. 

Have you ever made DONE lists?

Seriously, try it right now!

It's so empowering and gratifying.

when siblings grow up

It shouldn't have come as such a shock. After all, my parents used to tell me my siblings would be my best friends one day. Yeah right! I'd think. Siblings aren't friends! Siblings are my annoying brothers who steal the first shower, embarrass me at school, and tattle on me for being irreverent during church.

But somehow, between all those years of fighting over our shared car and teasing each other about supposed crushes, something happened. We actually became friends. It's a little weird, and a lot wonderful.

Two of my brothers and my sister-in-law came for Thanksgiving break last week, and can I just say it was the most refreshing visit in the world? Guests are always tricky when you live in apartments, but since we had a relatively small number of visitors, it felt cozy instead of squished. We struck that tricky balance between relaxing at home and going out on adventures. And Claire was in heaven with all the attention she was getting.

This was my first year hosting Thanksgiving, which normally would have stressed me out endlessly. But, because it was just my siblings, it didn't stress me out at all. It was so low-key and wonderful. Taylor did the turkey. Ellie did the pies. And everything else was simplified and delicious. The only decoration was a homemade garland made of fall leaves Ellie brought from Utah. Actual fall leaves! Bless her heart. I was so happy.

When I moved to Phoenix, I made a goal to become better friends with my siblings. I'm pretty sure this is born of watching too many episodes of Parenthood while editing pictures late at night. But it's happening! Meghan and I FaceTime every week. John is great at calling me. Liz and Jason are great at calling and FaceTiming too, although I need to get better about initiating the calls themselves. (I fully understand that all these people FaceTime me solely to see my cute toddler. I am under no false pretenses about that. Still counts though! Forced Family FaceTime!) And we Skype with my family every Sunday night. 

At what point do your siblings start becoming your friends? Does this mean I'm old? Or just that I have awesome siblings? Have some of you been best friends with your siblings since day one? (I cannot fathom this, but I know it must exist somewhere.)

The bottom line is that this is my huge thank-you to all my siblings, those that came for Thanksgiving and those that couldn't make it. This article, and my wonderful Thanksgiving break visit, have me super excited to go home and spend time with my family in a few weeks. Bring it on, Christmas break!

differences

This blog post is to show off three important things. Well, some of them are important, and some of them are pictures of succulents.

Which brings us to item number one: my cactus and succulent obsession. It doesn't look like it's going anywhere anytime soon. Sam doesn't understand my tendency to take pictures of every single artichoke agave I come across, but when you get lovely photos like these, no other explanation is needed, right?

 Between pictures of succulents and all my #azsunset iPhone snaps, I pretty much have Instagram covered for the next three years.

The second thing I have to share is that I happened upon this little scene yesterday in the nursery. While I was putting Claire's laundry away, she crawled up on the glider and started reading to herself. Between this and the sight of her in her snuggly footy pajamas, my melty heart is feeling especially melted these days.

The third thing I've been thinking about is differences in marriage. There's a quote in Wuthering Heights, where Catherine says of Heathcliff, "Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." 

It's such a sweet sentiment, but honestly, I don't usually feel that way about Sam. We're total opposites in so many ways. Our backgrounds are so different. Our likes, our dislikes, our home lives growing up. How and where we were raised could be a book called "Case Studies in Opposing Childhoods."

On some days, we disagree about the silliest things. Where the measuring cups should go in the kitchen. (In the little drawer to the right of the oven.) How many times one should press the snooze button in the mornings. (Zero.) Baby names. (For a couple that's not pregnant, we spend an inordinate amount of time debating baby names.) Political candidates and Saturday agendas and who gets Claire for the last hour of church. Really, you name it, we've got different opinions about it!

By all accounts, we should be constantly fighting. I come from a long line of passionate, stubborn strong-willed Richards women, after all. But we don't. I keep remembering a little moment from one of our first dates, before we were officially a thing. We were sitting across the table in a cupcake shop, each with a hot chocolate in hand. Mine was mint, and his was regular, and we had strong opinions about whose was best. But that's not what we were talking about.

"Look," he said. He was looking down and fidgeting with the corner of the table. Almost like he was embarrassed? Or shy? "I know it's not like the cool thing to say -"

He looked up. He was almost blushing. Definitely shy!

"-But what I really want out of life is to go to work every day, and then come home and be with my wife and kids. I want to do the whole parent meetings at school and soccer games and whatnot. That whole thing. That's what I want most from life. Just a family that I love."

Maybe we're more alike than we think. Maybe, deep down, whatever the most important parts of our souls are made of, we're the same. (Catherine Earnshaw was onto something after all.) And maybe our differences balance and compliment each other. And maybe that's a great thing. 

On our next date, when we were saying goodbye, he leaned in and gave me a kiss on the forehead. It was the sweetest, most understated gesture, and right at that exact moment, I was done for.

And now this has turned into a blog post about Sam and how crazy I am about him. There is a 100% chance my brother will give me flack about this blog post when he comes for Thanksgiving. Oh well. Sam is fantastic, the end.

But I can't let you go before I tell you about this necklace. I wanted a little mint peridot necklace to commemorate the month I married Sam, and absolutely I love this one. The necklaces are small and strong and I swear they're more sparkly than any photo captures. It's from the Hey June shop (I want these in rose gold), and my dear friend + shop owner, Bonnie, is offering 20% off with the code BROOKE20.

The other necklace is for my sister to commemorate the month in which they got to adopt their little boy. The code is only good through Saturday, so get one for your bestie and your mother-in-law and yourself today!

Okay FINE one last picture in all its grainy glory:

You see why I had to include it. And NOW it's the end.