Mama's Day.

Happy mama's day, friends!

Last year Jordan set the standard pretty bity low for Mother's Day. He's an absolutely fabulous hubby and parenting partner, so I don't mind admitting this minor lapse in judgement. Honestly, at the time, as a first time mother, I felt very disappointed with the celebrations that did not take place on that day. But today? I think his game plan was brilliant. Set those standards low so we can only rise 'em up ;) 

And rise 'em up we did.

Today was a beautiful day. Truly a perfect day celebrating the ones I love, with the people I adore most. I opened my eyes in beautiful Suncadia, to Parkerman standing on his tip toes leaning over the mattress with lips puckered. A few hundred thousand kisses later, we made our way downstairs to play with our in laws and his cousins. We then met Baba and Mawmaw for brunch at the lodge. T'was both delicious and lovely to chitty chat with our homies [aka: my parents] about our house hunting process.

After leaving sunny Suncadia with an absolutely tuckered out tot, I prepared my anxious heart for the long ride home. Hauling Park around town during nap time is almost always a recipe for disaster. I get all out of sorts if my already sleepless kid is deprived of his nap, to which my poor husband is then stuck with a cray cray wife and a ty ty kid. Lucky for both of us, Parker decided to rest his leetle head and sleep the entire hour and a half journey to Nama and Papa's house.

You know what they say. The best things in life are FREE. A napping kid during our car ride over the pass was the greatest thing Park could have gifted me on this already glorious day. And the Glassybaby that dad helped him pick out wasn't a terrible second best in the ol' gift department. Just call me spoiled.

Park hot tubbed and played outside at Nama and Papa's, while I was treated to a facial, by my incredibly talented sister-in-law. Finished up the day with to-go Chinese food on paper plates with my sibs and parents back at our casa. Finally, we completed our day by indulging in a big ass cookie brownie, fresh out of the oven.

Nighttime is always our favorite time of the day, and today did not disappoint. Parker giggled as I tickled and kissed him half as many times as we did in the morning, then we sung silly songs and prayed with dad. He crashed immediately after whispering 'awme' and with that, my very favorite mother's day came to a close.

Happiest Place.

Everyone thought we were riding the CRAZY TRAIN straight to Anaheim when they heard we were taking our sleepless, tantrum-throwin' tot to Disneyland. And I couldn't blame em, it sounded crazy to me too. But here's the truth, we were never going to Disneyland for Parker's sake. Disney is a place Jordan and I have talked, planned and dreamed about visiting for five years now. One year, we even got so pathetically close as to staying in Santa Monica with a free day to fill, yet we couldn't afford park tickets to the real deal, so we went down the road to spend the day roaming around Knott's Berry Farm. Fun day? Yes. Did it fill the Mickey shaped hole in our hearts? Not a chance. 

So when Jordan committed to attending a men's retreat in Santa Ana this winter, we knew it would be the perfect time for him and I to finally enjoy the thrill and the crazy of our happiest place on Earth. And our child? Well, he was just along for the ride. That lucky little son of a - - Disney fanatic. 

Leading up to the trip, I researched like a crazy lady. Wrote lists. Bought new toys. Charged my camera. Packed snack attacks. Debated whether we'd rent or bring our own stroller. And as Jordan and I headed to the airport with an unhappy camper in tow, we hoped for the best and then set our standards really, really low.

What happened when we cautiously walked into the park on morning one of our two day Park Hopper adventure was nothing short of a miracle on 34th street. 

Parker took one look at the waving Mickey-mitten welcomers who added to the joy, hustle and bustle of Main Street and immediately knew he had found his peeps. The people who could keep up with his endless energy and then some. Who always waved. Constantly smiled. Carried colorful cotton candy and bundles of Mickey-shaped balloons. The music. The sounds. The smells. The lights. The characters. The crowds. Our feet hadn't yet stepped off the bricks of Main Street yet our kid was already in love...home sweet home in the land of over stimulation.

As we headed towards the rides and mapped out our morning game plan, I received a text from my very thoughtful and always-cautious father. "Enjoy the day. And remember to go at an 18 month olds pace."

Little did my dad, or any of us for that matter, realize that Parker's pace would outlast us all. He rallied from open to close, riding the rides, waiting in the lines, shopping for new Tigger and Mickey hats, watching 3D shows, dancing with live shows, devouring popcorn, running through Toon Town, meeting the characters, and waving his way through two parades.

Prior to our trip, Parker had never watched any Mickey movies and was unfamiliar with all of the characters. We figured he'd be terrified to see the big guys in person, but holy holy, does that boy keep us guessing. Not only was he unafraid, meeting characters was the absolute highlight of Park's trip. That, and the Winnie the Pooh ride - which him, Eric and Mia [who earned sainthood status on this trip] must have gone on at least ten times.

It's been a few weeks since we've returned, and honestly I am still a bit baffled by how care free and magical our trip to Disneyland was. It was a dream come true for Jordan and I to finally visit the parks together, and seeing it through the eyes of our kiddo was just an added bonus! 

I thought all kids loved this ride? After waiting in line for thirty minutes, only to discover Park's just not that into Dumbo, we caught our one Hallmark meltdown of the trip on camera. Classic.

Happiest parents in the happiest place. 

Parker Says.

I say it every month, and Jordan constantly mocks me, but this month really, truly has been the most fun with our ever entertaining little boy. He is moving a million miles an hour, cutting teeth like it's his job, and you can just tell by looking at him that his little mind is always, constantly spinning. Must be dizzying to be a growin' tot. I've noticed a dramatic and adorable expansion in his vocabulary recently, and since Park's word development is so very newsworthy, I've decided to include a list of his current sounds with English translations. You're welcome.

He Says // He Means

Sann Sa // Santa
Banca bac // Banana
BaBa // Grandpa Jim
PaPa // Grandpa Mark
Rawr // Bear
Ba Da // Airplane
Ba Da // Big Bird
Huhuhuhu // Yes
Shhh // Fish
Honk Honk // Car

Haaah, accompanied by the strangest facial expression // Hot

And of course, everyones favorite, and the butt of all jokes...

Dada // Mom

Super Bowl XLVII Champions!

Hey Little 12th Man Fan,

We made history tonight. No, not you and I specifically, unless you consider our impressive consumption of Muddy Buddies & Fritos hamburger dip to be world record worthy. Naw, tonight wasn't so much about our accomplishments...

Tonight the Seattle Seahawks steamrolled the Denver Broncos 43-8, to win Super Bowl XLVIII. For weeks, people have anticipated the best defense matching up to the best offense in what was sure to be an entertaining fight. I glanced at a few polls, only to learn how much the majority of the nation predicted and cheered for an orange and blue W. But they didn't get that win. The Seahawks played flawlessly and made our blue and green soaked city very, very proud. 

So here's how it all went down. You, your dad and I woke up to the sun shining brightly. A beautiful, blue sky morning. With bed head abundant and pajamas jammin' we ran downstairs, with as much anticipation and wonder as we did on Christmas morning. We turned on the tv and watched ESPN and SportsCenter, utilizing a brief commercial break to run upstairs and throw on our blue and green. Then, with zero seconds to spare, we ran out the door to church. To our surprise, the service  was transformed into a full on Super Bowl trivia extravaganza. After worship and watching Making of a Champion, the congregation enjoyed beef brisket & Skittles together, while sitting at blue and green covered cafeteria tables. Jerseys were worn by young and old, and Hawks decor colorfully awakened the outdated  middle school gymnasium. Strange as it sounds, a 10:00am potluck, complete with Skittles and soda pop just feels right when your team finally makes it to the Super Bowl. 

After church, you and dad rocked it at swim lessons, while I cheered you two on from the wet & wild sidelines. You did great going down the plastic slide, and didn't even scream when your instructor swam too close // with such noteworthy accomplishments I can only imagine you were trying to outshine Russell Wilson on his big day? 

Fast forward thirty minutes and the entire family was huddled around grandma and baba's television set. Uncle Matt, Lauren, and their cute dog Sadie, as well as auntie Amy drove over the bridge to join us.  We ate way too much food. Laughed and cried thru commercials. Okay, maybe no one cried, but I'm pretty sure I did spot auntie Amy wipe away a tear after the Coca Cola commercial. Your dad and I won a few bets and lost a couple others, and uncle Dan created an awesome spreadsheet, complete with prizes for the winners of each category. We watched the pre-game. The game. The post-game. And then some more...

Buddy, I wish you would be able to remember this awesome moment a decade or two down the road. As you lay peacefully passed out in your crib, our entire city is currently on fire. No really, people are celebrating in the streets, setting off fireworks, and I just saw in the news that some hooligans in the U  District are lighting couches on fire. Please don't be one of those fans, or if you are, spare yo mama the worry and don't post anything on Facebook. Okay? 

So there ya have it. A little recap of a big day for Seattle fans. I'm happy that you, your dad and I could all enjoy our first hometown championship together. 

Watching post-game interviews, and reading stories about young and determined Seahawks players who have finally brought the Lombardi trophy home, I can't help but dream about where you might find yourself in ten, twenty years from now. What dreams will you accomplish and where your dad and I will go to cheer you on? I can only imagine - will your passion, hard work, and dedication take us to a science fair, a basketball tournament, a new country, a math Olympiad, a ballet recital, a rally, a choir performance, or a national championship? I guess only time will tell. 

Welp, my Super Bowl recap just became an ounce too sappy and I've officially stuffed ten handfuls too many of Muddy Buddies into my mouth. Must be my cue to close the computer and call it a night. I love you, buddy. More than the Seahawks and I'm more proud of you than any Championship title our sweet city will ever bring home. 

Cheers,

Mama [or as you like to say] Dada

One Point Five.

Hey ya little stinker pants,

Happy eighteen months, buddy! One and a half years ... How in the world did that happen? Ever since that summer day in 2012 when you made me a mama, I have come to understand that all those cliche mama lines // you know, the 'I can't remember what life was like before you' and the 'I didn't ever think I could love someone so' plus the 'I don't remember the last time I showered' and the 'this is the most challenging yet most rewarding job of all time' // well, I've caught myself saying each of them, and I've gotta admit...cheesy as they may be, there is tremendous truth tied to those sentiments.

You were a game changer, bud, there's no question about it. Some days I think I'm going to burst because of your beauty and the joy that fills my heart by being your mom, and then there are other moments when I could cry from sheer exhaustion and frustration of it all. Regardless, every day, more precisely ever hour of every day, I whisper into your little ears how much I love you. I then slap a silly grin on mah face and tell your dad 'he's so cute' to which he now just rolls his eyes. He's heard it a thousand times, and will hear it at least a thousand more. Old news to him, but you are, Parkerman. Those big blue eyes, your feisty and spirited personality, your sense of humor and desire to make others laugh, your love of all things animal noises/airplanes/books/balls/baba/big bird/and milk, your mini Mohawk, your fatty cloth diaper waddle, your smile, your little fingers as they sign, your little voice as it speaks, and your animated actions and facial expressions communicate so much to us about who you are and what you're all about.

At month seventeen, just around your second Christmas, you gifted your dad and I with the most incredible present // sleep. Grandma now brags to all her lady friends that you're sleeping thru the night, to which I always, always chagrin. Sleeping through the night, you are not, and I am most definitely giving you a big, red pen circled 'F' in regards to your nonexistent naps....but it is true that on most nights, you now sleep four-ish hours consistently, and for that, we have promoted you to king of the castle. You like the crown and status, and we like sleeping long enough to actually experience a dream. On most nights, you're out at 9:00pm and stay quiet in your crib til midnight-2ish. If grandma Ann thinks that is sleeping through the night then I'd love to see her up with your wide awake self at 3am, 5am, and 7am. Somehow we've misguided you into thinking there's a halftime party happening during the wee hours of the morning, and your standing, screaming, and persistence in cheering until one of us tends to your needy needs is nothing short of impressive. And obnoxious. We often cuddle from 2am onward and you usually wake me up rearing and ready to go as the sun rises, with a smile and an enthusiastic 'dAda!' quickly followed by the milk sign. Please don't blame me when you end up in therapy. 

You're a silly, strong willed, and energetic little lovebug. You keep us guessing, humbled and very, very entertained. We love you so much, and we love you even more when you sleep ;) Keep it up, kid.

xo. Mama - who you still mischeviously call dAda

Life Lately // Winter Edition.

Cheese!

Our parental happy place.

 First day of swim lessons.

Soaking up the sun and watching ba-da's soar at the park.

Our new favorite lunch joint in Woodinville. 

Big Bird, forever and always.

Enjoying the nightlife with great friends at Purple Wine Bar.

Cheering on auntie Katie at the U.

'Soo...can we go back inside and watch Big Bird now?' 

Word of the Year.

I'm not one to set new years resolutions. Since becoming a mama, I have found that I tend to shy away from long term planning and instead prefer to take life as it comes. Rather than keeping a monthly or year-long calendar, I jot down daily hourly to-do lists, and don't allow myself to commit too far into the future. Actually, who am I kidding? These days I can't even find the sticky note to write the list, so my ISFJ has officially turned into an ISF. Motherhood has stripped me of my organizational skills and desire to plan away, hustle, and fill the days. So instead of committing to a new years resolution, I now love to choose a word to help guide and challenge my journey through the upcoming four seasons. To me, it seems practical, creative, simple, encouraging and realistic. 

And this year? My word came so very easily to me.

b r a v e : ready to face & endure danger or pain; showing courage. 

// I want to be a brave wife, who loves my husband fiercely and invests my best self into dating and selflessly supporting him, as he graduates from school and transitions into his residency program. I want to show courage in our marriage, as we continue to grow and evolve as parents, individuals, professionals and a couple. 

// I want to be a brave neighbor, wherever we land next; investing myself fully into another new community and opening up my heart to the new people and stories God brings into my life.

// I want to be a brave and confident mother, who doesn't sweat while my kid throws a tantrum in Target and the childless lady in our aisle offers up her best parenting advice. A mama who says yes more than no, and does not let fear or laziness dictate her decision making. 

// I want to be a brave voice in my community, speaking love while fighting for equality and justice.

// I want to be brave with our finances, living below our means so that our family can give generously. We don't know the Jones' and don't care to keep up with them in the coming year. 

// I want to be a brave traveler, encouraging my family to live  adventurously and spontaneously. I want to pack my bags, fly into the clouds with our toddler, and see new lands.

// I want to be a brave friend, who frees myself from comparison and brings authenticity, thoughtfulness, a hot cup of tea and encouragement into my relationships. 

// I want to be a brave believer, who prays with and for my family, and is unashamed to pursue my relationship with Christ.

// I want to be a brave artist, who creates and also risks in sharing that creativity with others.  

I want to be brave, and take risks this year in my relationships, my work, my heart, and my agenda. Will you join me? Or simply turn up your volume and rock out to Sara Bareilles' Brave for a few moments? To say I'm obsessed with this anthem would be a bit of an understatement.

So there it is, my word of 2014. Now, if I run into you in line at Target over the next few weeks, you've been warned - I'll want to hear your word of the year. Show me // how big your brave is.