faith, hope, and love


You are called to care for life in its initial stage; remind everyone, by word and deed, that life is sacred, at each phase and at every age, that it is always valuable. - Pope Francis

I really love this piece of wisdom from Pope Francis. At each phase and every age, life is valuable. Yes! These little people, every child, every baby, is someone worthy of love. Even when it's tough, or they're being difficult, or life is challenging and inconvenient. We are called to value life even at those times. To love and accept and nurture. To not lose sight of what truly matters. We have a little rule in our house (ok, so it's not so little, it's our #1 rule) that if we're not being kind to each other, everything stops and we figure out where we're going wrong and reset our priorities. We want to foster an environment of love. What good would anything in life be if we can't love and value each other on a human level first? It all starts with love.

And when I see our kids helping an old woman at the store or playing with babies at the park, it's like fuel for my soul... a sign that says yes, this is good. Keep going. 

Our days may be loud and busy and filled with spilt milk, but here's the thing, they won't always be that way. Someday our babies will grow up and our home will be quiet and I'll think back to these days of blocks strewn across the floor and sticky little cups of juice left on the table after breakfast and all the crying and laughing and I know I'll miss it. 

Because there's something beautiful here. 

In the late nights rocking babies and scrubbing crayon murals off the walls, these days are a gift. I mean really! Yes, it's crazy and hard and a tremendous amount of responsibility, but I've learned  through our story, our trials and losses and bumps in the road, that it's all worth it. The long days always come to an end and when I look back, I'll know we got the important stuff right. 

As it is, these remain: faith, hope, and love, and the greatest of these is love. 1 Corinthians 13:13

a birthday fiesta


Our sweet Henry turned 7 a couple weeks ago and we celebrated with a low key birthday fiesta in the yard... perfect for our boy who loves all things espanol! We made his favorite meal: grilled quesadillas with chicken and rice, he would eat this every night if he could! Of course, no fiesta would be complete without Mexican sodas, tortilla chips, and giant Mexican chocolate cake (and maybe some rock candy for the kids too!). It was a fun evening and a great way to usher in this next year! Feliz cumpleaƱos Henry!

these days


Our mornings start around 6 am these days. The little girls wander into our room in their matching floral pajamas and climb up into our bed... Violet will pull back the covers and snuggle in between us and then giggle and yell "yay! did it!" like she's accomplished her life goal of getting into our bed. It's pretty much the sweetest thing ever. I'm not much of a morning person (gross understatement right there) and even though our nights have been long and tedious this past month, there is something about waking up to smiling babies that warms my heart. Our days and rhythms change over the years, but I never get tired of mornings. The slow and peaceful, playful, lazy, drawn out times of sipping coffee in bed while the little ones watch cartoons, or getting our favorite donuts before Mass on Sundays, or watching them play with play dough for hours on end. How Henry bounds into our room in the morning with a million animal facts rolling off his tongue and Naomi loves to snuggle the baby when she first wakes up. 

These are things I want to remember. 

The crying and laughing and swirl of little voices that has become our soundtrack of sorts, on the rare occasion I'm alone, I even find myself missing the constant noise (ok so I enjoy the peace for about an hour, then I don't know what to do with myself anymore). 

Being a family of 7 still catches me off guard most of the time (like what?! we have how many kids?)  but you know, it never ceases to amaze me how natural it all feels. I have this theory that our struggles to become parents and rough pregnancies along the road have shaped us into people who parent with the glass half full. A way of looking at the long nights and drains clogged with toy soldiers (true story) and bandaids stuck all over the house and taking it in stride, knowing at the end of the day, it's all worth it. When I look at our babies, I see the most perfect combination of us in them... my nose, his eyes, their gorgeous shades of skin that fall somewhere between Japanese and Norwegian. It's a beautiful thing. And I sure am glad we get to do this. 

So that is life these days. Messy, happy, and full of love.