My stay-at-home-mom life permits me to have a lot of time to think.

I think that if I had to give a reason why I was hesitant to get married (which I wasn't, ever, at all, so don't get any ideas... this is solely hypothetical) it would be that I was going to be giving up the single life.

I had it pretty good. Or at least I thought I did. I was living the life. I think others probably would have died had they been put in my shoes. But I thought I was living the life (albeit "Mormon style").


I was going to school at BYU-ID, though over time this had evolved into going strictly online. I was working full time for an amazing doctor, with an incredible staff. I was doing work that a lot of people do for their entire lives. I felt like I had reason to go to work, I felt fulfilled as my job enabled me to learn more every single day as well as gave me opportunites to feel like I was helping and making a difference to others. The office was a fun, lively place where I made friendships that I hope will last a lifetime. 


I held a variety of callings in my ward, mostly in leadership positions. I was the perfect definition of a wardie. Sad, but true. Mock me all you want.  Although, sometimes (a lot of times), I stretched the rules a little (it's in my personality, it can't be helped). I did everything I could to ensure that not only I, but everyone around me was having fun. I attended all of the activities. I held parties and invited ridiculously large amounts of people to eat...off of my counter. I fed hoards of boys in the ward. I hung out in the boys apartments, played the role of the college girl with an apartment full of guy friends. We threw ridiculous parities together, with red carpets and all. And they turned out to be some of my best friends through those years. 


I had amazing roommates. Some not so amazing. But, what would college be without a little drama. I lived with my best friend. We bought matching scooters, made late night runs for fountain drinks, played pranks, and snuck into the guys apartments late at night. Our dreams were to travel the world together, accomplishing ridiculous fantasies and 


I never slept. I laughed all the time. I thrived.

I thought I was the happiest I would ever be. And I never wanted it to end.

And then I met a boy. Right at the height of my single life, writing a missionary who was about to come home, and planning my single life years into the future. I met a boy.

And I was comfortable. I didn't feel the need to impress him (poor him). I laughed with him until my gut hurt. I could cry on his shoulder for hours without being judged, but simply held. I told him things I'd never told anyone. We talked for hours. We did nothing for hours. And even then, I didn't want the days to be over.



He met my family, and they loved him (because he laughed at me when my dad nailed me in the face in a Thanksgiving dodgeball game--my family is cruel, it's true). Then he met extended family. And they loved him. And I met his family. And went on a trip with them to their sacred place (a.k.a. Disneyland). And I fell in love with them.





And before I knew it, we were planning a wedding.

She was really enthralled

Since it is fathers day, Alyssa has allowed me to spend the ENTIRE afternoon and evening watching the US Open.  What a great fathers day gift! Nothing better than a relaxing Sunday afternoon watching golf while your wife acts interested and asks questions like....... "they said he just got a birdie, but do the players get to choose what species?"  That's a joke, Alyssa actually knows quite a bit about golf and she has even agreed to start taking lessons from me!

As I'm sitting here watching the Open I've noticed that there have been a lot of commercials of pro golfers, thanking their dads for everything they have done for them.  Since my golf skills have not yet been recognized as quality enough to get me featured in a Titleist commercial, I've decided to use this outlet as a medium in which to share my appreciation for my father.


If you don't know my dad, you're really missing out.  He's quite the character.  I wouldn't even try to count the number of times he embarrassed me as a teenager or try to explain all his quirkiness.  But now as I begin my own journey into fatherhood, I realize how grateful I am that he is a man of character (both interpretations included).

Never did he miss a ball game of mine.  He was always a great example of someone who respected women (he's SO good to my mom).  He is always willing to go out of his way to help me out. (hundreds of trips all over eastern idaho to bail me out from car trouble or bring me something I forgot). Always gave us fathers blessings to begin the school year, teaching me the importance of priesthood in the home.   He turned me into a steelers fan as a kid and talked me into cheering for Karl Malone instead of Michael Jordan because Karl could rebound.  These and so many others have made me grateful for having a father like him.

Most of all, I thank him for always being a Dad. That word means so many things and I think we all know what it encompasses. He has never stopped being my Dad.

A glimpse of other's junk, our treasure

Great Grandma Bonnie was able to come up and love on Miss Abby

Watching a movie, tired, after a fun afternoon