I’m pretty honest. Probably too honest, if you asked around.

Regardless, I’ll keep it real.

The week after Christmas we packed ourselves into the car and started driving to Utah. That drive is never fun, but winter adds a whole new element of excitement. We’ve hit a deer (well, I hit the deer), driven through snow and icy roads, and even plowed through blizzards that were blinding. This year was one of the bad ones and not just because of the weather.

Taking care of eyeglasses sounds pretty easy, but for my nine-year-old son, sometimes the task seems impossible.

I go to church every week.

I have responsibilities and things that I am asked to do. Occasionally, I get asked to be a substitute to teach a class. This happened a few years ago, and it was almost the worst experience of my life.

Long ago, when I lived in LA, I was a regular patron of the YMCA. I loved the group exercise classes. My favorite classes were the ones with tons of choreography and complicated moves—it felt like I was dancing again. As we learned a new combination, I noticed two different groups. One group never took their eyes off the instructor. Spinning, turning—the moves didn’t matter.

I was driving my mom to the airport in Texas. The weather forecast was for thunderstorms and possible tornados.

“Are you ready for Christmas?”

I’ve been asked this question a thousand times this week. Well, maybe not quite a thousand, but it’s a lot.

Here is the answer:

It was early fall in Utah, and the weather was still warm. Brian and I had plans to hike Mount Timpanogos with some friends. I was pregnant, about 10 weeks along, and no one knew besides the two of us. I’d never hiked this particular mountain but had heard it was difficult. Undaunted, we woke up early and started hiking.

In the 1990s, a linebacker named Rob Morris played football for BYU. He was an awesome athlete and very fun to watch. He became known as Freight Train Morris. At one particular game, BYU passed out wooden train whistles. We were told to blow into the whistles every time he tackled another player.

What’s in it for me?

How will this benefit me?

Who is helping me out?

What do I get out of this?

Have you found yourself asking these questions before?

More often than not, Thanksgiving has been an exciting holiday. It doesn’t happen every year, but I have come to expect the unexpected during this week.

The holidays are upon me like waves in the ocean, one after the other. Typically, this is the time of the year when I get incredibly busy.

So, sooooo busy.

I found a cross stitch pattern of The Nutcracker three years ago, and I was in love. ❤️❤️❤️ I purchased the pattern, and the supplies, and couldn’t wait to get started. Initially, I was so motivated and planned to get it done in a matter of weeks. Well, weeks turned into more weeks, Christmas came and went, and I quickly tucked that unfinished project away. But don’t fret—another project soon piqued my interest, and I was hooked. AGAIN!

I made pancakes last weekend. The first batch didn’t turn out. Honestly, they never do. No matter how many years I’ve been making pancakes, the first batch is always a little too done (read: burned) on one side and then a little misshapen because of an over-eager cook with a spatula.

I was a senior in high school, and in a hurry. The car I usually drove, a little Chevy Citation, was parked at the end of my parent’s driveway. I was in our big, black van. At the time, cars didn’t have sensors and cameras on the back, so there was no warning before I smashed the back of our van right into the front of the Citation. I had made history at that moment—no other child in our family ever wrecked two cars at once.

Twenty-two years ago I was living in California with my in-laws. Brian was busy with medical school, and I was home taking care of our infant daughter, Samantha. It was a time filled with so much learning. I often felt overwhelmed and under-knowledgeable.

It was 3:15 in the morning. I stood outside my son’s bedroom door and knocked.

“Come in,” he said.

I pushed the door open. Landon was dressed in his suit and stood next to his three packed bags.

“Mom, does my tag look right?”

In my naivete as a youth, I believed a lot of things that I heard. Whether it came from teachers, friends, or other well-meaning adults, I was on board. Some of these catchphrases were meant to inspire and protect, but have fallen flat as I’ve lived my life. I hope this post doesn’t read too cynical…it’s meant to be more of a Holly Snow reality post.

Welcome.

Tucker and I walked to the bus stop this morning, reading a book like always. He pointed to the sky and told me he had learned about the moon. He wanted to say more, but I cut him off.

“Pay attention, Tucker!”