I’ve been pregnant six times. Six babies. In each of these pregnancies, there came a point where I was really uncomfortable. I was using the bathroom all the time and sleep was elusive. My heartburn raged, it hurt to walk, and breathing had become a chore. I was not exactly a pleasure to be around. For the baby who was inside of me to get outside of me, I had to go through labor.

A few weeks ago, I was busy making posters. I was in charge of teaching songs to the kids at church, and I had my markers and posterboard ready. I used my ruler to make a very light line for the bottom of the letters. Ok. Here we go. I started writing.

The boy I absolutely adored in seventh grade leaned over to my desk. I tried to appear cool, but I was sure he could see my heart practically beating out of my chest.

Three years ago, my dad died.

I spent the final week of his life with my mom and siblings, going back and forth to the hospital in my small hometown of Blackfoot, Idaho.

When our family got a WII gaming system, MarioCart was all the rage. My kids loved it and played it often. They would beg me to play as well.

At the end of January, I went to Utah for the weekend. On Sunday morning while I was on my way home, Brian texted me.

“Annie is sick. 🤮”

I took one of my kids to the doctor’s office yesterday. As I pulled into the parking lot, my mind went back to a time many years ago.

I love calendars. I adore planners and organizers.

Twenty years ago, a friend and I were coming home from a fun day at Disneyland. We both had two year-olds, and they were sleeping soundly in the back of my car.

Landon is coming home this weekend for a very brief, but highly anticipated visit. Monday morning he is getting teeth!

Mary Lou Retton scored a perfect 10 on the vault in the 1984 Olympics. I remember that moment. That particular vault made her the first American woman to win the all-around gold medal in gymnastics. She opened the doors of possibility for little American gymnasts all over the country.

We were stuck.

Brian and I had just returned from a trip, and we couldn’t find our car.

Experience creates wisdom, if you let it.

Last February, Texas was hit with a huge storm that lasted for a week and caused all kinds of damage and even death.

My husband walked into our apartment in California, looked around at the new decor, and then looked at me. He seemed puzzled.

“Is there a theme you are trying to create? Is it wood-sy?”

I grew up with a very religious background. Because of that, I heard a lot about modesty. Most of the modest talk referred to how we dressed—specifically, how young women dressed. It seemed to be how most things were at the time, very black and white. These clothes were good. These clothes were bad.

Many years ago, I started following a cooking blog. Every recipe was delicious, and nothing was very complicated. Plus, a friend of mine actually knew the cooks behind it all, which I liked. I was a fan.

“I don’t like the look of those X-rays at all. It looks like cancer.”

My heart stopped. I looked down at my cat, Cosmo. I was having a hard time believing the veterinarian.

The internet is a tricky place. Anyone can really put anything online, and it may or may not be accurate. Regardless of that fact, we tend to trust people—and the information online.

One of my daughters had an experience with some other girls last week that was hard. The girls were mean. As I listened to her story, I started thinking about mean girls in general. Do some girls just come wired that way? Is it in their DNA? Or is it learned behavior? From my perspective, it does seem like girls are getting meaner and meaner all the time.

Three years ago, we went sledding in Utah.

It wasn’t our first sledding experience, but it was the first time we had gone to this particular place.