Step by Step Parenting

I cannot believe that I have been keeping up with these weekly Sunday blog posts for over half a year! At the start of 2026, I was nearing the end of my twin pregnancy and feeling absolutely miserable. I couldn’t even remember what it felt like to feel “normal” anymore. One of the only goals I set for the year was that I wanted to fall in love with writing again, with no limitations or expectations.

It hit me this past week that I’ve already reached that goal. And it’s not that I ever fell out of love with writing, I was just more so in a rut. I wanted to find that creativity I had in college again, I wanted to write more poems and short stories and personal essays. I didn’t want to paint myself into a corner by only allowing myself to write about motherhood, or stepparenting, or pregnancy. I didn’t want to limit myself to only publishing articles once or twice a week. I just wanted to have fun with writing, worrying about nothing other than whether or not I was enjoying it.

It’s only the end of July, but I’d say mission accomplished! Writing has helped me feel like myself again as I’ve gone through lots of tumultuous changes this year. Writing has helped me stay grounded, explore my feelings, find my voice, and document a phase of life that’s slipping through my fingers most days.

I’m sure the time will come where I go back to handwriting in a journal every day, as opposed to typing all of thoughts in a rush during pumping sessions and the twins’ nap time. But I’m not quite there yet, so in the meantime, I am so grateful for other ways to document everything!

This Week in Review

Even though we didn’t leave for Utah until Thursday morning, I feel like most of this week revolved around either getting ready for vacation, or being on vacation.

On Monday, I left work slightly early to pickup my bridesmaid dress from the tailor, and I started packing as soon as I got home. This week would normally be a week that the three big kids were off with their other parents, but since my ex and I had rearranged some things in order for my daughter to be able to attend my brother’s wedding, we had Eloisa (and the twins) this week, but not Kennedy and Thomas. It was so, so, so nice to have some extra one-on-one time with her, even if that meant she was a little extra clingy and wanted to be right by my side 24/7.

My best friend came over on Tuesday, and she brought her dog, Willie, who is Ginger’s best friend. This meant that the puppies could play, I’d have an extra hand with the babies and Eloisa and dinner, and I could keep packing. The dogs had a blast playing, and Eloisa’s day was made when the ice cream truck showed up at the playground. Good thing Sara was there and insisted on buying Eloisa the popsicle she wanted, because I was ready to pull the, “we have food at home” card!

On Wednesday, the craziness continued. I dropped Ginger off to the dog sitter around lunchtime, just to get it out of the way, but then of course missed her for the rest of the day. I realized that this would be my longest time apart from her since we brought her home over a year ago! This made me even more sad, but I knew that she was going to have fun and be well taken care of.

I spent the rest of the day trying to simultaneously pack for me, the twins, and Eloisa, while soaking up as much time as I could with the twins before leaving them. Kevin and I were confident that we were making the right decision by leaving them behind, but it was still tough.

I went ahead and took the twins’ five-month photo on Wednesday, since they turned five months just a day after we left, and it’s hard to believe that they’re already that old! We have highchairs all ready to start solids next month (which yes, involved me needing to rearrange our entire downstairs), and they are finally starting to grow some of their hair back. It’s so hard to tell what color it will be — sometimes it looks blonde, other times, more brunette. Only time will tell, I suppose, but it sure is cute!

Thursday started bright and early, with my alarm going off at 4:00am so that I could pump before finishing packing. I woke Eloisa up around 5:00am, and we hit the road by 5:45am… in the pouringrain. It was honestly a little scary! Thankfully, it cleared up by the time we reached the airport, and we had no issues with our flight. Several hours (and Xanax) later, and we landed in Salt Lake City around lunchtime. We grabbed In-n-Out for lunch (duh) before heading to the Orem Temple. This was Kevin’s first time going inside a temple ever, and my first time in probably over ten years, so it was a really special experience! The fact the both of my parents and siblings were there made it even more so.

After that, we stopped at the grocery store before heading to our AirBnb to try and get in bed as early as possible before our adventure. We had scored last-minute parking tickets for Mount Timpanogos, so me, my husband, and my dad were going to hike to the 11,700+ foot summit the next day. I set my alarm for 2:00am, because I would need to pump before we started our drive at 3:00am, and we needed to leave at that time in order to arrive at the trailhead by 4:00am.

I’m writing a whole other post on our Mount Timpanogos hike, so I won’t go into too much detail here, but it was amazing! Super, super difficult, but really cool nonetheless. The views were stunning, and we were lucky to see so many beautiful wildflowers, as well as lots of wildlife. Quality time is one of my love languages, so I loved loved loved having so much time to talk with my husband and dad — even if I was doing a majority of the talking on the way down!

Since we were really in town for my brother’s wedding the next day, the three of us made a pact to keep any complaining about how sore and beat up we were to ourselves. My dad had fallen a few times, I struggled with a little bit of altitude sickness, Kevin was severely dehydrated, and we were all pretty sunburnt. Still, our “pact of secrecy” didn’t stop my dad from telling my mom, “Look!!!! We hiked up that whole mountain!!” every time we had a clear view of Timp for the next few days… which was basically anytime we drove anywhere!

Saturday was my brother’s wedding, and our last day in Utah. Either my dad or my new sister-in-law’s dad (I can’t remember) made a comment about how weddings have a way of inviting all married couples in attendance to reflect on their own marriages and their own weddings, and I found that to absolutely be true. The whole day, I couldn’t help but think back to my wedding day a little over a year ago and feel so, so grateful for my husband and our life together.

Although I still see a little twelve-year-old boy every time I look at my brother and can’t believe he’s old enough to actually be married, it was clear to anyone in attendance how in love he is with his new wife, and how happy they make each other. I wish them all the happiness in the world, and I’m so excited for this new chapter in their lives and our family’s life. Growing up, I think I always viewed me and all my siblings getting married as “the end,” and in some ways, maybe it is. Our childhood together really is over. But at the same time, we’re also entering a beautiful new phase of life, and I can’t wait to see what life has in store for us.

The Author of Our Peace

I have always been an anxious person, but nothing sets me off quite like flying. For as long as I can remember, everything about flying has terrified me — the sounds and sensations during takeoff and landing, the thought of being miles above the ground (or worse, the ocean), simply suspended in air, all of it. A few scary incidents during flights have only made this anxiety worse. Sometime in my teens, I was prescribed Xanax to make flying more comfortable, but it only helped alleviate some of my anxiety symptoms, not cure it all together.

This isn’t to say that I let my fears stop me from flying. I have flown back and forth across the country more times than I can count, to and from Hawaii and Europe several times, as well as to South America once. I might be hyperventilating, but I still find myself standing in line to board, again and again and again.

My trip to Utah this past week was no exception, and I was sure to pack my meds somewhere I could easily reach them during takeoff. After years of traveling, I have my routine down at this point: buy a drink (usually Diet Coke) before boarding the plane so that I have something to take my meds with, take the first pill while waiting to board, get on the plane, put on my headphones to blast some music, take the second pill as the plane is speeding off the runway, and then play a game called Temple Run as a distraction during takeoff, while I remind myself over and over that in fifteen minutes or less, we’ll be at cruising altitude.

Once I boarded my flight to head home on Sunday, I settled into my routine as usual. There was an empty seat between me and my mom, and I was hoping it would stay that way so that my daughter, who was a few rows behind us with my husband, could come sit beside me. But at the last second, a water bottle and a Snickers bar were tossed into the empty seat while a man hurriedly placed his bag in the overhead bin before stepping over me to reach his seat. I didn’t even have time to move, and honestly my feathers were a little ruffled, but the man said, “Hi, sorry, how are doing?” so nicely that I responded, “Oh it’s fine, good, ready to get home, how about you?” before I could stop myself.

“Well Utah is home for me, but my dad is passing away as we speak, so I’m trying to get home as soon as I can.”

Not much renders me speechless, but that did. I hadn’t been prepared for that. I mumbled out something (hopefully) coherent about how sorry I was to hear that, and we had a brief conversation about how his dad had lived ninety-five long years, so this wasn’t a surprise, before we each resumed our individual pre-takeoff routines.

As the plane pulled away from the gate and joined the queue for departure, I couldn’t stop thinking about the man sitting beside me in seat 8B, and about how you really never do know what the people around you are going through. I took my second Xanax and started a new game of Temple Run, trying to take deep breathes during lift off while secretly freaking out.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw him open the LDS Library app and type “losing a father” into the search bar, and my heart cracked open a little more. My dad was sitting just a few rows in front of me, and I couldn’t help but look at his experience losing his dad through a slightly different lens. I was only fifteen at the time, so I don’t think the magnitude of the situation really hit me. I couldn’t help but wonder, what did my dad search? Who did he turn to?

And then, another question popped into my head that caused me to reflect on my own life: when I struggle, what do I search? Who do I turn to?

I have never known life without the Internet, and for most of my life, I’ve had access to handheld technology. There are definite advantages to both of those things, and I don’t discount the ways in which they improve our lives. But suddenly, I felt very silly playing my little game to cope with my anxiety while the man in seat 8B was searching the word of God and the teaching of prophets for comfort during his trial.

I rummaged through my bag and pulled out my scriptures, which I had brought on the trip with hopes of reading, but hadn’t touched once. I turned immediately to John 14:27, as it had long been one of my favorite verses, and it seemed especially applicable in the moment:

“Peace I leave with you, my peace I give unto you: not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

From there, I decided to follow the breadcrumbs in the footnotes and read as many scriptures on the topic of “peace” that I could find, highlighting new favorites along the way. Among those was 1 Corinthians 14:33, which says:

“For God is not the author of confusion, but of peace[.]”

There is no doubt that there is endless confusion in the world today. Personally, I struggle with feelings of confusion, as well as anxiety, anger, hurt, betrayal, and hopelessness, on a weekly basis. Thus is the human experience.

How wonderful it is that through it all, we have the author of peace in our corner. How much more quickly would some of our fears dissolve or worries fade if we simply sought the comfort of Christ a little sooner?

I’m not ready to ditch my Xanax quite yet. There is a time and a place for things like medication, therapy, etc. I’m not saying to forgo all of those measures and instead, “just pray and read your scriptures!” because that is not how really mental health issues work.

However, this experience did remind me to take all of my worries, questions, and doubts to Christ, the author of peace, who is waiting patiently to help all of us, if only we knock and ask.