Little Sisters Grow Up

A few weeks ago I blogged over on my photography blog about doing my sister's engagement pictures. It was such a fun day to spend with my sister and her fiance. Well, the big wedding weekend finally came and I realized how bitter sweet seeing your baby sister get married is.

First, I will admit, I was an emotional mess. I won't blame it on Fed Ex (who mis-delivered the engagement picture canvas I did for the reception hall) or on the fact that my fiance and son ended up being late to the wedding because they were tracking down the aforementioned package.

There was just something about seeing my little sis all dolled up and ready to walk down the aisle. It just squeezed my heart and made me so proud of her, and the role I have been able to take in her life.

Megan is 11 years younger than me. I always felt more like her second mom than her sister. I remember getting up early when she started going to school, so that I could help her find something cute to wear and curl her hair (which ironically, she still asks me to do when I happen to be around, ha). Back then I was "Mandy" and I can still hear her squeaky little voice asking me to do one thing or another. Yes, I hear it right now in my head and I am smiling BIG.

I headed off the college when she was only 7 years old (younger than my own daughter is right now) and it was hard on BOTH of us. I missed her sweet smile and cuddles. She missed having someone to get her fixed up every morning. I left her with a teddy bear that she nicknamed "Mandy" and would confuse my mom at bedtime when she would cry "But I need MANDY to go to sleep!" (meaning the bear, not me, but boy did my mom feel frustrated, ha).

We made it through those years and Megan never seemed to go too far from home. She chose a college about 10 minutes away and a boy she had known nearly her whole life. Even now, it doesn't feel like we are losing Megan, just gaining Joe as the brother he's always unofficially been.

The rehearsal was more like a family reunion than anything. Both sides of the family have known each other for years and we all gathered at first the country club to go through the ceremony steps and then off of Campania's in Southlake for some yummy pizza and lots of love and laughter.

jenna & nate (who wasn't real impressed)


my sister misty & jenna before the rehearsal

my parents and megan laughing over something (love this)

nate, me and jenna (a rare picture together)





my mom with the kids (I adore this pic!)


a sweet pic of my girl jenna


one of my faves
they had only been apart for about 30 minutes
but for soon-to-be married, it's eternity


this one makes me giggle
chase is playing with forks
nate looks like he's in trouble
and jenna is giving me a "another pic?!" smile

most handsome nephew EVAH!

Thanks for looking at the pictures. I will share more about the wedding later... off to get some other work done.

Have a blessed day!

Is it all uphill or down?

Sitting on top of a mountain, all by myself, a couple weeks ago, I realized how rarely I am truly alone these days. Unless I am driving in my car to or from work or to get the kids... I usually have someone with me at all times.

Being by yourself is empowering and humbling at the same time. I could hear my own thoughts and was able to slow the beat of my life down to enjoy all that was around me. The little details that I take for granted while I rush through each day. Instead of wake up, shower, get kids dressed and teeth brushed, fix breakfast, drop at school, head to work, go to lunch, pick kids up from school, make dinner, take baths, brush teeth, say prayers, tuck in bed.... Rinse. Repeat. I was breathing in the cold, unpolluted and refreshing air that you can only get while being transported on a ski lift. Trees and snow surrounded me. I could hear the hum of the machine that cranks out the artificial snow and the laughter of snowboarders below me. But even with that background noise... it was so quiet and peaceful.

Here on the mountainside, there were no calls of "Mom! He hit me!" or "Miranda, can you call ____ and check on _____." No events to plan. No deadlines. No homework to check. Just snow. Quiet. Peace. Calm. --- Not to say I didn't miss the kids. A part of me was wishing they were there, as I knew they would have loved playing in the snow and even learning to ski along side me. But I needed this little vacation from life. From motherhood. From my everyday.

This was my first time skiing. I am 33 years old and I had 3 year olds zipping around me when I got off the lift. But that's okay. I was not intimidated. I took my time. I got the feel for the ice and snow under my ski's. I learned the subtle turns and slices to slow down or speed up.

I never truly made it off the bunny slopes.... well okay, I admit that my boyfriend talked me into a green run. Once. It was at the end of a very successful day on the bunny slopes... I only fell twice. So I was feeling supremely confident. After a brief Starbucks break (what we deemed the nectar of the snow gods), I donned my gear and headed towards my first green run. AT NIGHT.

Yes, that is right... this was NIGHT skiing. If it wasn't for the football stadium-sized lights, you wouldn't be able to see the lifts or the runs... and you could NOT see where the path wound around to. Sometimes it felt like you would fall off the edge of the mountain as you came around a steep turn. I screamed the entire way down. Entire. WAY. Down. Lots of screaming.

I managed to stop by falling at the end of each steep hill . When I was afraid of going any faster, I'd just throw myself onto the snow sideways and skid to a stop - snow and ice flying around me. It felt like it took HOURS to get through that run, but it was probably only 15 minutes.

When we got back on the lift to go back to the top of the mountain (we were at an upside down resort... meaning the resort is at the top of the mountain, instead of the bottom like normal)... my heart was HAMMERING in my chest, I was out of breath.... BUT I was exhilarated. I conquered a huge fear and did it without killing myself OR breaking anything. Seriously. I am so not kidding. I felt really and truly accomplished by stepping out of my comfort area and doing something risky and thrilling. It's so not my typical style. I live my life in a fog of anxiety and fear and worry... rarely taking risks. This was a HUGE step for me.

The guys yelled "Ready to do it again Miranda?"... I smiled widely at both of them... "You really loved it didn't you? You did a great job!" said my very supportive guy. "Let's go," he said skiing off back towards the run enthusiastically.

But instead of following, my skis stayed firmly planted... turning almost of their own accord back towards the lodge. My breath was not evening out as I expected it to and my heart was beating more wildly than when we made it down the run. I could feel perspiration beading on my forehead.

Feeling dizzy, I gripped my ski poles and said "um, guys, I can't." They both looked at me like I was crazy. I mean... I JUST DID IT. I proved I could ski and with practice would only get better. But my legs would NOT move. My heart was gripped by panic and my head was pounding.

Yep, I was having a full-blown panic attack.

Great. God only knows why? I mean it was just tiny little green run... not like I just did a double black diamond or anything. But there it was, the familiar tightening of my chest and the overwhelming feeling that I would pass out or vomit or both.

I knew myself well enough, having suffered from anxiety for several years, that my best bet was to call it a night and let the guys go finish up the evening doing their kamikaze stunts down a black diamond. I had a warm bubble bath and glass of wine eagerly calling my name. I knew when to accept my limitations and call it a night.

Later that evening, glass of wine in hand, I relaxed in the room alone and reflected on the day. I had went from never having been on ski's to running head first down a mountain, at night no less.

Despite the panic attack, I was proud of myself and felt like it was a learning experience for me. And even though I only skied for 2 days total - and was terrified for most of it - I am excited to go back someday soon and learn more and get better. I am not done with skiing yet my friends.

The next day was our last day and I just wanted to enjoy the mountainside with nothing better to do than take some pictures, do a little shopping for the kids, and find a nice place to have some coffee... by a fireplace maybe... you know, the whole "Hallmark" moment that everyone dreams of when skiing for the first time.

So I sent the guys off in search of a few more manly thrills down an advanced ski run. (I am certain they were relieved to rid of the amateur and not stuck with me again for the day... and I was relieved to have some more valuable ALONE time).

Do I regret not facing my fears on that last day or even the night before and honing my newly found confidence on the slopes? No. Not really. I found what I needed to find on that snowy mountain... I found confidence in myself again. I knew that no matter what I wanted in life... I was not to old or stubborn or scared to face it. No need to tempt fate any further than that for the time being.