August 6th

On August 6th, 2011, Taylor Ray got down on one knee and asked me a question I was so excited to say "yes" to.

The cute boy had me completely fooled.  I thought for sure, I would know when he was going to propose.  But he did such a good job at fooling me the entire day!

I'll have to have a blog post dedicated to that story.

See here for more details on our love story :)

Taylor proposed to me at the beautiful Stewart Falls.  We decided after we got engaged, that we would make it a tradition to hike Stewart Falls every year on August 6th.  No matter where we are in life, no matter what state we may be living in, I plan to take a trip to Utah to hike Stewart Falls on August 6th, until my limbs are too weak to make the memory-filled hike.

Here are pictures of Taylor and I celebrating our one year engagement anniversary at the top of Stewart Falls.  There was no one around to take a picture of us, so we struggled taking a good phone picture of the two of us together. But, here are our best attempts:

You know you spend too much time with someone when you make the exact same face, completely on accident, in a picture!

Hi, pretty ring!

Taylor's showing off his muscles...I'm just pointing to the waterfalls. Haha

Thanks, husband.

Don't really know what's happening here, but this one made me laugh.

Look closely... see that water bottle in the brush? Taylor and I joked that this was the same water bottle that I dropped from excitement after he proposed.  Ha...it very well might be! (see video at the end of this post and watch for the water bottle drop!)

As we were huffing while hiking, Taylor jokingly turned to me and said, "Why didn't I propose to you on a wave-runner?"

I could not stop laughing after that.

He told me that after years and years of hiking this, our future boys would ask him (in their best whining voices), "Dad, why did you have to propose to Mom at the top of a mountain?"

And Dad will reply, "So I could teach you how not to propose. I did it for you, boys."

Haha...even though he joked about it, we both loved every second of reliving such a beautiful memory. :)

Here is the video of that special day one year ago :)

Dear husband, Thank you so much for proposing to me. Thank you for giving me the most beautiful ring. Thank you for being my very best friend and eternal companion through this life. Thank you for making me want to be a better person every day. I love you.
"Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same." -Emily Bronte

Happy 4th!

Taylor and I had such a wonderful time celebrating the 4th of July yesterday!

So much fun. So much good food. So much family and friends.

Can't get much better than that!

Here are a few pictures from our day:

Hey look! Picture on the left=last year's 4th.
Status: dating.
Picture on the right=this year's 4th.
Status: married!
Awesome.

(p.s. we wore the same shirts on purpose ;))

More pictures AND an awesome video of the whole day (in the process of making it right now!) to come tomorrow!

Thank you.

Yesterday late afternoon, I suddenly felt overwhelmingly nauseous.

(no, I'm not pregnant)

I was trying to hold it together at work and pound out the last two hours,

but finally had to bail and go home.

On the way home, I was trying really hard to focus on the songs on the radio, and not on the fact that I was about to lose my lunch (ravioli to be exact).

But, that was to no avail.

Because I had to pull over on the side of the road, and throw up for all passerby's to see.

The ravioli wasn't pretty.

I thought about taking a picture, but I wanted to get back in the car and drive home more. 

Then I thought, "Who really wants to see a picture of this?" 

So, lucky you. No picture. 

Anyways, I laid in bed for the rest of the afternoon and evening, and slept my nausea away (mostly).

My husband was so worried about me, and it was really sweet. He wanted to do everything he could to help me feel better.

It reminded me of a time about two months after we got married:

I had a really bad UTI (#typicalmormongirlproblems).

Taylor kept telling me to go to the doctor, but I insisted that I was just fine.

Then, my kidneys started to hurt, and I was throwing up like crazy.  So I decided going to the doctor would be a good idea. 

It was actually the same week as finals...so, as you can imagine, this was an awesome week for me.

Not.

After throwing up all day, I fell asleep on the couch in the living room at around 7pm.

When I woke up at two in the morning, my sweet husband was laying on the floor next to the couch, fast asleep.

Even though there was another couch about four feet away, he chose to sleep on the ground, so he could be right next to me to help me if I needed it.

I was overwhelmed with gratitude for this wonderful man.

I woke up again at six in the morning. 

He was still there, on the ground.

And he was holding my hand.

Yesterday morning, I made a list of chores I wanted to get done that evening (you know, before I knew that I'd end up getting sick).

I obviously didn't make it to that chore list.

But when I woke up this morning, the list was gone.

And everything that I had on the list had been done.

Leprechauns? Angels? Little mice?

No.

 Just my wonderful husband.

My wonderful husband who cared for me until I fell asleep.

And then started on that chore list. 

And didn't finish until the whole list was complete...even though he was up until 12:30am doing it, and had to work early the next morning.

But he wanted to make sure everything on that list was finished.

Just for me.

Growing up, my dad used to always "baby" me and my siblings when we weren't feeling well.

When we were sick, he would make sure our beds were just how we liked them.

He would call to check up on us (if he was at work), or come into our rooms (if he was home) to make sure we were doing okay.

He would even give us a bell to put on our nightstands.

If we needed anything, we just had to ring the bell, and he'd come.

Awesome, right?

We only got this treatment if we were sick though. ;)

He'd buy us a Jamba Juice if our throats hurt, some 7-up and crackers if our stomachs hurt, and even milkshakes if our hearts hurt.

I love getting taken care of when I'm sick.

I got spoiled when I was a kid. 

By my wonderful daddy.

And I'm getting spoiled as an adult.

By my wonderful husband.

How did I get so lucky?

Still trying to figure this out.

Thank you, Dad.

Thank you, husband.

I love you both.

Worth it.

I stumbled upon some of my old journals the other day.  Let me tell you, I have been an avid journal writer since a very young age.  This habit mostly spawned from my dear mother, who wrote in her own journal every night without fail.  Anyways, as I was rereading through some journal entries of the past, I was struck with a realization.  

What would my sixteen-year-old self think if I had been given a glimpse of my  life five years in the future (essentially, right now)?  I think some sixteen-year-old doubts, concerns, fears, and worries wouldn't seem quite as important.  Because, guess what, sixteen-year-old self? Life works itself out.  And life works itself out splendidly. 

 Or what if my twenty-one-year old self could have given a few words of advice to my sixteen, seventeen, or eighteen year old self in times of need?  Just a few short words during the times life seemed too hard.

Here's what my twenty-one-year old self would have said:

Dear Sixteen-Year-Old Self:

It's okay if that boy doesn't like you back.  It's not the end of the world.  Because, guess what? There's a much better (and did I mention cuter?) boy who will like you back in the future.  And guess what else?  He will get down on one knee someday and ask you to marry him, and you'll be the happiest girl alive.  So, Sixteen-Year-old Self: don't you dare shed another tear over that boy. Or any other boy for that matter.  Don't you dare tell yourself you're not pretty enough, skinny enough, smart enough, funny enough, or good enough for that boy.  Because you'll be more than all of that to a wonderful boy in just short five years.  Hold on, Sixteen-Year-Old Self.  Save yourself and keep waiting for this future boy.  He's worth it. And so are you.

Dear Seventeen-Year-Old Self:

Don't be so quick to grow up.  Eighteen isn't that much different than seventeen.  Take a deep breath, cherish the moment, and live in the moment.  Be grateful for your parents everyday.  And don't just think it, or write it down...show it.  Show them.  Because, guess what?  In one short year, you're going to miss them. A lot. And you're going to wish that your Mom was just one door away again, instead of two states away. You're also going to wish that you could just walk up to your Dad everyday and give him a hug.  You're going to really miss being Daddy's little girl.  Hold on, Seventeen-Year-Old Self.  Growing up is exciting, but so is life right now.  Don't be so quick to be frustrated when Mom and Dad make decisions for you.  Because you're going to end up really wishing that they could keep making decisions for you.  Don't be slow to tell them you love them.  Think twice before going to bed without giving them a hug.  You won't have this opportunity forever.  And one day, you'll really miss it.  

Dear Eighteen-Year-Old Self:

Smile.  This place will feel like home one day.  It's okay to miss the familiarities of home, but work hard and make this place feel like home.  Because, guess what? I promise it will.  You are about to have so many opportunities and so many experiences here.  Stop letting sad days pass you by.  Chin up, young one. No more tears, no more sad days, no more "hermit" days.  Believe it or not, you're going to make some friends that are just as good as the ones back home.  And guess what else?  Remember what I told Sixteen-Year-Old-Self?  This is where you're going to meet that boy. The one you can't live without.    This is where you're meant to be.  Trust me.  Keep reading your scriptures, keep believing, and don't let any more sad days pass you by.  You're home right where you are.  Hold on, Eighteen-Year-Old Self.

Dear Nineteen-Year-Old Self:

You're really having a tough year, aren't you?  But please, take a look at the bigger picture.  Look at what you've accomplished in such a short time.  I know life seems really hard right now.  But please, stop tearing yourself down.  Because, guess what? You're doing a good job.  I know it might not seem like it now, but I'm really pleased with you, Nineteen-Year-Old Self.  I know you're seriously considering leaving BYU and going home.  Hold on, Nineteen-Year-Old Self.  Remember what I told Eighteen-Year-Old Self?  You're meant to be here.  And I meant it.  Deep down, you love this place.     Don't let a few hard months or a few hard situations let you forget that.  

Dear Twenty-Year-Old Self:

Only a month of being twenty and you feel like you're on cloud nine, don't you?  I told you he was great. I told you he was worth it.  I told you this is where you were meant to be.  I told you you'd be happier than you could have ever imagined.  I told you this place would feel like home.  And guess what else?  Life is only going to get better. So much better.  Don't worry, Twenty-Year-Old Self.  He likes you back.  And guess what else? He loves you. He loves you more than you'll probably ever know.  Don't fret too much.  He wants to be with you, too.  In fact, he's going to ask you to marry him, to be with him for eternity, remember?  I wish I could tell you how he proposes, but I can't ruin the surprise.  Trust me on this one: he will surprise you, you will say yes, and you will be the happiest girl alive.  Hold on, Twenty-Year-Old Self.  He loves you too.

Dear Twenty-One-Year-Old Self:

It was all worth it.

  

Pondering about the Woodland Family...

Last week, my sister and her family moved to Kansas.  We have loved living so close to the Woodland family, and we already miss them dearly!  After lots of cleaning, packing, and tearful goodbyes, they started off on their drive to the mid-west.  Boy, do we miss them!  Especially their littles, Emma and Max.  I will especially miss the times when Emma asked if she could spend the night with Aunt Kelli and Uncle Taylor.  I will miss being a part of their young lives. Thank goodness for Facetime, right?

As I was helping Laurin clean her home before they moved, I was reminded of the many evenings I spent at her home as a young college student.  When I was homesick, in need of a home-cooked meal, had a rough day, or just in need of some sister-time, Laurin was always quick to invite me over (always with a never-ending offer to do my laundry at her home...free laundry!).  I spent many nights playing with E&M, sleeping on the Woodland couch, and feeling once again refreshed to conquer the college life.  While pondering over these memories, I was overwhelmed with her hospitality and love she shared with me, her little sister.  I sure have some of the greatest sisters. :)

Taylor and I had the opportunity to watch  Emma and Max about a week before they moved.  We had so much fun!  We took them to an elementary school play, Willy Wonka, that some children from our ward were in (p.s. everyone did such a magnificent job in the play!).  Emma and Max loved it.  Then we got to play with them before they fell asleep for the night.

Here are some pictures (and a video!) of our fun night:

E&M came up with a fun game with Uncle Tay (see video) :)

(Laurin...I promise we didn't drug Max)

(Listen carefully to Max telling Taylor, "Hit me!")

We miss you, Woodlands!  We pray for your happiness in Kansas! 

xoxo

Ode to childhood

While walking to our apartment door at the end of the day, I noticed this little bike toppled over on the sidewalk in front of our next door neighbor's beautiful home. I was caught off guard by the nostalgic feelings of childhood I was suddenly consumed with. I was reminded of my own sweet childhood memories: trying to to keep up with my siblings on my tricycle (a gift for my 4th birthday) as we raced around the court, dropping everything as Mom or Dad called us in for dinner, chatting noisily around the dinner table, being pushed on swings (the best was when Dad would push us and do is infamous "underdog" swing), crying over spilled milk or a broken Barbie, quietly playing bedtime games when we were supposed to be sleeping, using our imaginations to play innovative childish games that we couldn't get enough of, snuggling up on Mom or Dad's lap at the end of the day, getting a kiss from Mom on bruised knees, elbows, or even foreheads (that's a story for later) when you run too fast for your little legs to keep up, hiding behind Dad's legs when you're too shy to say hello, feeling so great about yourself when your Mom praises you for your beautiful picture of the family and hangs it on the fridge for all to see (when in reality the picture is nothing more than an array of scribbles and disconnected lines) ...I could go on and on.

There is something so precious in the simplicity and innocence of childhood. As much as I miss these sweet memories, I know that they have shaped me into the person I am today, and I couldn't be more grateful. A hoorah for wonderful moms and dads all over the world is much deserved.