The Real Five-year Anniversary

Since Curtis was out of town the week before and the week after our anniversary, our celebration waited a few weeks. And what a perfect weekend we waited for! An anniversary and Mother's Day falling on the same weekend makes for a very pampered wife and mom.

On Saturday, Curtis planned a perfect day for us. We drove just ten or fifteen minutes to the town next to ours to find a hike. Curtis found a lovely and kid-friendly trail that lead to a waterfall. The trail itself was gorgeous. We walked along the river, surrounded by lush green ferns and tall, tall, tall trees covered with moss. The sunlight streamed through the treetops, which were hundreds of feet above us. The dirt trail was not too steep that Sebastian couldn't ride his bicycle, so he pushed himself alongside us as we walked hand in hand. Another perfect moment. We heard falling water and caught glimpses of a bridge through the leaves. We crossed the bridge and found our way under it, leading to some rocks overlooking the falls. As I watched Curtis wear Livia and hold Sebastian's hand on top of that rock, I thought about what a great man I married. Two weeks late doesn't mean I can't reflect on what a great relationship we've developed over the last five-plus years. He's a near-perfect man, an adventurous dad, and a wonderful companion.

As we made our way back to the car, Sebastian started feeling adventurous enough to pick up his feet down some of the hills. It's a good thing we both forgot our cameras because I think our moms would die to watch Sebastian experience "downhill mountain biking" for the first time. At first, he skidded his feet the whole way down some of the slopes, but then he attempted to place his feet on the footrest of his bike. What an exhilarating run for Sebastian and view for Mom! And what would a mountain biking experience be without a big fall. He cried for a bit, but was back up and coasting down the next hill in no time.

Sunday we went to church, which I love on Mother's Day because there are always treats. A candy bar and giant cookies this year. Score! Sebastian, Livia, and I went outside to look for snails so Curtis could cook us a delicious meal in peace.

Mmm! I could smell the butter and garlic from outside. We had a lovely meal of salad and broiled lobster tail with a very unhealthy-but-oh-so-delicious butter sauce. I'm so spoiled!

On Monday, we stopped by the Portland Oregon Temple before we dropped Curtis off at the airport. Even though he would be gone for the next week, we were lucky to get to reflect on the reason our marriage is even possible. In the Visitor's Center, we sat at the feet of Jesus Christ, and showed Sebastian the marks in His hands and feet. He touched Jesus' feet, then looked at his own. It was a sweet moment.

We took some much-needed time to celebrate us and our life together, but if I am honest, a day rarely goes by that I don't think of how blessed my life is by my sweet husband. We are both not without our faults, but at the end of the day, we are each the best thing for the other. Curtis elevates me in ways I didn't realize a person could. He treats me with kindness and compassion that I don't think I deserve; yet, he makes me feel like I am such a deserving woman. He kisses me the moment he comes home from work and holds my hand while he's driving. In fact, he always drives. He changes diapers all weekend so I can have a day off. He speaks to me softly. He somehow knows how to answer all my tricky do-you-think-I-look-fat?-type questions perfectly. He thinks I'm the hottest woman alive. He understands my past and accepts who I am trying to be. He encourages me to do anything I want to do. He lets me relax when I need it but pushes me to work when I need that too. He is just the best. And I feel so lucky to know that five years is still only the beginning.

Because of Him

Easter has always been a holiday that weighs heavily on my heart. The fresh newness of spring is easy to breathe in, but when I think of Him, it suddenly becomes hard to swallow. It's difficult to articulate how I feel about my Savior Jesus Christ. It's a deep, vulnerable feeling that my understanding of words like "love" and "gratitude" barely scratch the surface of. I like to think that I understand what He did, but I don't. When I stop to think about what my Savior really does for me, an awareness washes over me. It's everything. Everything I love, everything I have, and everything I want I owe to Him. Because of Him, I'm free. I'm happy. Because of Him, I have come to know a more whole version of myself. Because of Him, I can keep everything I hold sacred and dear. These gifts are overwhelming and beautiful and so joyful. It's really just not fair. But it's real. 

Love Is In the Air

As Valentine's Day rolls around this year, I challenged myself to make the perfect cheese fondue and list the most irresistible things about my babies.

I love the way Sebastian runs on his tippy toes. He has been doing this ever since he first started walking. Sometimes he'll wag his head from side to side as he shuffles his feel, and his sweet grin just makes me chuckle every time.

Livia has the sweetest fingers. Maybe it's because they are tiny. But when she's eating or looking at something intently, she points her finger as straight as she can. I always wonder what she's discovering.

The first time Sebastian walked around on snow and ice this year, he was cautious but excited. He, as usual, had cars in his hands. Although I thought it was pretty cute how he would try to step on the ice, it was when he fell down flat on his back that I couldn't handle. He lay there for a second or two, then rolled over and immediately started rolling his car on the ice. Falling never phases this boy.

Livia is generally a life-loving gal, but when Sebastian goes to sleep, she knows. It's her absolute favorite time of day. She is awake and smiling and wiggling and kicking around so much that Curtis and I can't help but give her all our attention. That's probably the reason she loves it so much.

Sebastian's language skills are sky-rocketing these days. He's picking up on words that we don't even try to teach him. He's still getting used to pronouns, however, and I take it as a great sign of learning when he mixes them up. His favorites these days are "hold you" when he wants to be held and "sit me" when he also wants to be held.

I never thought I would love any other babies legs more than I loved Sebastian's until I saw Livia's. Her chunky little legs just kill me every time I look at them! When we stretch on the floor, sometimes she'll straighten them out as much as she can, and every little roll squeezes together. Delicious! My favorite, though, has to be when she froggy kicks her legs. She does it when she's excited—or randomly—and I love it every time.

Head, Shoulder, Knees, and Toes

Sebastian,

You are now two years old. I know, I know—I say this a lot, but I can't even believe it.

One of your new favorite things to do is sing. I don't know how you know what it is, but you can recognize whether or not a page has musical notes on it. You open the hymn book during church and sing along with the congregation. It's the most precious sight—you sitting there with that big book open on your legs that are short enough to fit completely on the bench. You scrunch your eyes like you are working hard and sing as loud as the organ plays. It's my new favorite thing, too. When we sing together as a family, you make sure we have the page open with the musical notes on it—not just the sound. You sing every song we play, but you especially love Head, Shoulders, Knees. and Toes.

And I love more than just the way you sing. I love every bit of you, from head to toe. So here's my version of one of your favorite songs (with a few added verses).

Head
There are many things I love about your head—the way your hair grows over your ears, the way you wear my headbands on your head, the way you love your hat that the garbage man gave us. But the thing I love most about your head is what's inside. Your mind is wondrous. You have the greatest imagination—I knew that when you bit your toast into the shape of an airplane. You remember important things. You learn new words every day. But most of all, you love. The first thing you do when you wake up in the morning and run out of your room is find Livia. "Livia, are you awake? Are you happy? Livia's happy!" You care about other people and you love them.

Neck
When you used sign language to communicate, you tried to copy my signs as best as you could. In fact, your signs for banana, peas, and eggs all looked the same. But I could always understand what you were saying. My favorite sign, though, has always been your sign for love. Rather than crossing your arms in front of you, you have always tucked your fists together under your neck. While some of your other signs have changed to more closely resemble the model sign, this one never has. And it's your own way of telling me you love me.

Shoulders
It goes without saying how much you love to climb. You have strong shoulders and excellent balance. And as much as I don't like to let you go, I know that when I trust you, you get stronger every day.

Hands
This list wouldn't be complete without mentioning your love for cars. I'm not sure when it started—you never even had your own toy car for the first half of your life. In fact, until about six months ago, you had only one. Then Mimi came to the rescue and send you a package of Matchbox cars. And now there is never one out of your hands. A few examples:

Fingers
Oh, the way you hold a pen is just perfect. You squeeze all four fingers and make the most delicate scribbles I've seen a two-year-old make. Well, some people might call them "scribbles," but I know you are trying to make an S. S is your favorite thing on paper. In fact, it's all you see. You see it on the signs for the S-Bahn, you see it on the side of my nail file, and you see it among a scramble of every other letter in a box.

Bottom
Your favorite color is blue. I know this because every time I change your diaper, I let you choose which color you want. You always choose blue! If I don't have any blue diapers left, sometimes I'll try to sneak a blue-green or grey diaper on. It doesn't work. Not even with the lights off.

Legs
You don't love everything. Nope. Life would be too easy if that were the case. You love going outside and riding the train and playing at the park, but you hate putting on pants. Mimi and Grandma always comment on how you wear only a diaper sometimes. Well, it's not that I'm just lazy; you really hate it! So, as cute as I think your legs are, you still have to wear pants when we go outside. Or we can just stay home and dance.

Knees
When I play music during the afternoon lull, you won't let me just sit back and watch. You come over to me, pull on my pants, and say, "Dance!" You remind me why I do what I do. I don't stay home to sit back and relax; I stay home to be with you and teach you and dance with you and have fun with you. Your favorite song is "Let It Go," and I don't even know why! You've only seen the movie recently, but you've loved this song since before Livia was born. I would play a Disney radio station, and you could tell "Let It Go" was on from the first four piano notes. But the way you dance is what kills me. You bounce up and down to the beat and swing your arms from side to side. It seems to be a universal cute baby dance, and I'm thrilled you haven't moved on.

Toes
As much as you love running and playing, I would have to say that your favorite thing to do with your toes is jump. Since we are living in a 600-square-foot, one-bedroom apartment, our bed is out in the living room. (Yes, you get the room all to yourself.) And since our bed is out in the living room, you think it's just fine to use it as your own during the day. I don't blame you. It's just that you like to push all the blankets and pillows onto the floor so that our mattress becomes your personal trampoline! "Jump!" you say, and I'll come up there with you . . . sometimes.

Eyes
Let's face it. You see a lot of things. You can spot a airplane in the night sky . . . and somehow pick it out of a sea of stars. You can spot an S on a sign as we pass it on the street. You can spot a tiny gnat in our apartment on the other side of the room. But your favorite thing to look for these days is a train approaching from the distance. It's red, it's fast, and its doors open automatically. What's not to love? We'll be sad to leave the trains behind when we leave Germany. But right now, as your are two years old, they are your favorite things.

Ears
You aren't always pleasant after your nap. I understand. I would probably be the same way if I woke up and the day was nearly over. But one thing that will get your spirits up is hearing footsteps in the Treppenhaus. Dad has these giant, heavy steel-toed boots that he wears that he can't help but clunk up the stairs. Good for us, though, because we can hear him as soon as he starts his ascent!

Mouth
You sing, you eat, you spit, you kiss . . . but I have to mention what you don't do with your mouth these days. I'll try to serve you a variety of food. You love hot dogs, cereal, bread, cheese, peas, bananas, and a lot of other things. You even like spinach! But if I try to sneak a tomato on your pizza, "No 'matoes," you say. And you'll put it on my plate. I can hide mushrooms and eggplant and even nuts (sometimes), but you won't ever accidentally eat a tomato. You must have gotten that from Pappaw. I love this about you because you are figuring out who you are and who you want to be. Likes and dislikes are personal, and you are learning who you are.

Nose
One of Dad's favorite jokes (that he doesn't realize he tells all the time) is that you love to "stop and smell the roses, literally!" It's true, though. When we go out for a walk, you somehow manage to see small flowers growing—and you'll always stop to smell them. You scrunch up your nose and show your teeth and take a deep breath. It's just another way you teach us how to appreciate everything in life—especially you.

So, see, Sebastian? I love every bit of you. And there's more to love than what I just named here. And even though I can't believe you're two, I know that a day will come when I can't believe you're twenty. But there will be just that much more to love.

-Mom

Cutting Hair and Cutting Teeth

Livia was born with pretty hair. It wasn't quite the mop that Sebastian was born with, but it was just pretty. Nice and fluffy on top, long in the back. Just pretty. But it soon got out of hand. She probably wasn't even a month old. But I just couldn't stand to cut it. I'd ask Curtis if he thought her hair was too long. "It's kind of pretty, though," he'd always say. And it was! But now that she's almost five months old (!), I decided it was time. So, I cut her hair. And it hurt—me, that is. Livia was an angel, as always.

But what hurts me even more than cutting her pretty hair is when Livia decides to cut things on her own . . . cut teeth, that is. 

She looks so sweet and innocent . . . but then . . . 

October 19, 2014: The day I got teeth.

Eeek eek!

Livia, you are just growing up too fast. You are just the sweetest thing. I say that every day, you know. You sleep like an angel. You are happy almost all the time. You smile at me from across the room! I love love love your gummy smile, but I know you can't stay small forever. And that makes me so excited to get to know you more and see who you are. I love you and I love your cheeks!

(Don't mind my hair. Sebastian was just crawling on my head.)

Oh, and happy birthday, Auntie Austen!!!

Moments That Matter Most

I can still see the peace that had been washed over his face. His pink eyelids were delicately closed as he breathed short, deep breaths in my arms. It was close to two o'clock in the morning. I lay there and stared at his body, so small and secure, cradled in the crook of my arm, in the dim light of the moon coming through my window. As I stroked his fluffy hair, I thought, I want to remember this moment for the rest of my life.

I often find myself wanting to remember important events, out-of-the-ordinary happenings that make my life seem more remarkable in some way or another, like hiking to the top of a glacier in the Swiss Alps or posing next to a crocodile in Cozumel. There's nothing wrong with that: These events are often very happy memories. Sometimes we get lucky with a camera, immortalizing moments that mean something to us, moments that make our lives unique.

But then there are moments that Instagram will never be worthy of. Maybe these moments can be photographed, but these moments I simply just want to enjoy. These moments are short. And sometimes we get lucky and realize what they are before these moments are gone.

These are just some of my moments:

when Livia goes completely limp as she eats.
when Sebastian clasps his hands and squeezes his eye to pray.
when I realized the crease in Sebastian's forearm was beginning to disappear.
when Livia gets all shifty-eyed as I stroke her eyebrows right before she falls asleep.
when they pout their lips and arch their back right after they wake up.
when Sebastian calls my name as I pick him up from nursery.
when they yawn and stretch their fists to the top of their heads.
when Sebastian points at the hummingbirds or the butterflies with excitement.
when Livia's eyes light up as she looks at the window.
when their gums look so deliciously gummy as they smile.
when Sebastian scrunches his nose and curls his lip, showing his small teeth, when he smells flowers.
when I wake up and realize Livia slept all night.
when Sebastian kicks his sandals forward as he runs. His legs are perfect.
when their chests rise and fall as they sleep.
when Livia smiles as Sebastian gives her cars or blankets or diapers or bread.
when Sebastian fell asleep with his hands folded on his chest like an old man.
when Livia sleeps so hard her face gets squishy.
when I decide not to yell at Sebastian.
when I decide to stare at Livia instead of stare at a screen.

President Dieter F. Uchtdorf instructed us that "we would do well to slow down a little, . . . focus on the significant, lift up our eyes, and truly see the things that matter most." I try each day to slow down and focus. And when I do, I feel a drop of heaven fall onto my heart each time.

East Coast Romance

I will never forget the moment I first caught a glimpse of Curtis Hale. He was standing at the back of the bus, chatting with a few fellow low brass players. He had a tan, young-looking face with dark, compelling eyes. But he had an air of genuineness and warmth about him. I'm still convinced rays of sunlight were radiating from his presence. You may not believe in love at first sight. I'm not so sure that I believe in it either . . . but I distinctly remember thinking, I want to be his friend. I didn't know anything about him. I had never seen him before. I didn't even know his name. All I knew was that I was drawn to him. 

It was May 8, 2007. We were both on tour with the BYU Wind Symphony. Although we both played in the same room at least twice a week for the past five months, he just never sat in my line of sight: He played the tuba, and I played the clarinet—opposite sides of the crowd. It was easy to talk to him for the first time. I feel quite lucky, actually. Everyone on tour wanted to get to know everyone else. We were airing around Appomattox Court House with a group of fellow band members, and small talk sprouted among us. I found out what his name was, where he was from, and that he had just turned 19 years old. He had recently received his mission call to Berlin, Germany. Ooh, we've struck gold, I thought. I took German 101 this year on a whim (I registered for the 8 a.m. class on the night before the first day of school), and I was in love . . . with German—at least at this point. Let's keep digging.

Standing on the steps at Appomattox Court House in Appomattox, VA

Chatting after lunch at the (my best guess) Merchant Square Mall in Williamsburg, VA

Curtis didn't know that I was the girl whose father was in the hospital. He simply saw an attentive, happy friend. When he learned of the uncertainty and fear I had been dealing with regarding my father's motorcycle accident, he never once felt sorry for me. He never judged me or tried to brush away the fact that I was hurting. He was just a true friend. We began sitting next to each other on the bus and exploring the stops together. I was falling in love; he made it very clear that he was unavailable (to my dismay). But he never abandoned me or made me feel insecure. He was a sincere, natural, unwavering, true friend.

Reviewing pictures together somewhere along the East Coast

Napping on a long travel day to Mooresville, NC

Having lunch at the Biltmore Estate in Asheville, NC

Posing in the Duke Gardens in Durham, NC

The tour eventually ended. He left the country for two years. I dated other boys. And somehow our friendship never died. We drafted hand-written letters to each other and sent them across the globe month after month, always anxiously concerned for the comfort and well-being of the other.

Now, seven years later, we are back. Curtis's job has brought us back to the place that our early friendship took roots. Last weekend, we reminisced on our first impressions of each other in one particularly enchanting location in Durham, North Carolina. We revisited the Duke Gardens, the first place we took pictures together while we were on tour. 

You can see for yourself how . . . handsome—I mean . . . I must be getting distracted by those eyes again! It turns out, we are living in one of the cities that we performed in. We drove by the Charles Mack Citizen Center in downtown Mooresville the other day, and we are almost certain that is where I first laid my head on his shoulder. (No, no, nothing scandalous was going on.) Curtis noticed that my eyes were quietly filling with tears. I don't remember what sparked my sadness; I had probably suppressed my grief about my father's condition for too long. He patiently pulled my off to the side and asked if I would like to get some air. He walked with me. He never left me alone. And I cried. On his shoulder. The moment was raw but, oh, so comforting. He is still my rock, my forever-constant, best friend. Even on the darkest days, he is my ray of sunlight. But I knew that the very first time I saw him.

Happy Anniversary

The twenty-fourth of April will always be a day to remember how much I love you. In the last four years, you've shown me so many reasons to love you. This post serves two purposes: to tell you what those reasons are and to document some stories that have yet to be documented.

I love that you are persistent.
I know you still deny that this story ever happened, but it's my favorite story to tell and I'm sure anyone who's anyone has already heard it anyway. Our first date. It was the beginning of a lifetime together for you. It was just a first date for me. Well, an important first date that I tried hard to look nice for...
"Why are you wearing that?" you genuinely-but-I-didn't-realize-was-truly-genuine asked.
I just gave you a puzzled look. "It's a short-sleeved sweater. I tried to look nice."
In your defense, it was July; however, I was already turned off to any potential hand-holding that evening. No matter; you tried anyway. We were sitting on the couch. You went for the hand.
"I'm thirsty. Would you like something to drink?" I held onto that glass for dear life. You were oblivious.
You went for the knee. Boy sure is persistent. I pulled my knees up to my chest. That oughta do it.
Nope. You went for the ankle. The ankle. Is there no stopping this kid? I didn't dare adjust again for fear of what you might try next.
At least I knew you couldn't get enough of me—which is good to know now, considering I don't spend three hours picking out a sweater you think is impractical for chasing around a toddler with dirty hands. And you are still persistent with your it's-good-to-be-home kisses, no matter how I look.

I love that you are money conscious.
I so do wish I had a picture of this story. Oh, about three months into our marriage, I came home from work one afternoon to unlock a door that smelled strongly of bananas. Smells like Curtis is frying bananas, I thought. Oh, was I wrong. I opened that door only to hit a wall of banana. Literally. I saw you sitting in the middle of the kitchen floor with bananas strewn all over the counter (we had a lot of counter space), the table, and the floor. You were peeling banana after banana and placing them into freezer bags.
"Macey's had a sale on bananas today!" you said with glee. Clearly, I thought. "I saw a box of bananas with a sign that said '$3' on it. I asked the produce manager if it was for real. He said, 'Yes! Here...' and even tossed in more bananas! I weighed them when I came home, and we got something like 46 pounds of bananas. For $3. Jessie, that's like 6 cents per pound."
This experience was one of the first times I saw your passion for finding ways to save money. You have since taught me the joy of cooking from scratch, growing a garden, and doing things ourselves (from changing our own oil to making our own laundry detergent) in an effort to save money. I knew we would always live in plenty.

I love that you are knowledgeable.
I'm not sure the first time I heard Bernoulli's name, but it's safe to say he's awfully proud of you for making his principle a regular topic of our road trips. When I ask you questions about why the mud is splattered in different patterns on the backs of differently shaped vehicles, I don't always care to know the full answer. However, I do love road trips because I feel so full of knowledge when we finally reach our destination. You teach me about physics, such as thermal expansion and Bernoulli's principle, and a lot of other useless bits of information, such as the history and variety of names for a horse-drawn carriage ("Fetch me a handsome, Watson!"). I'm honestly surprised when you (rarely) don't have a definitive answer for something I ask, but you "know enough to figure it out. And it's probably correct." I, on the other hand, do not know much about the way the world works, but I do know that you'll be Sebastian's favorite when he learns the word "why."

I love that you are forgiving.
This story isn't so much about you as it is about what you've taught me. You know me: I've been known to hold grudges. You forgive instantly. In our relationship, this is great for me but not so much for you. However, I remember the first time actively chose to forgive you on the spot.
We were driving from Provo to Murray for a family function at Aunt Kim's house. And then we were pulled over. Anyone who's driven on I-15 knows that no one drives 65 mph. That Sunday was no different. Except you, who was driving maybe 5 over, were singled out by that mean officer. "Keep it at 65. That's a $180 ticket." He threw a slip of paper into the car and walked off.
Inside, I was pretty irritated. Outside, I probably looked irritated as well. We finished the drive in silence. When we arrived, you came over to open my door because I was apparently too ticked to open it myself. I stepped out and chose to hug you. You looked shocked!
"I guess we'll be donating plasma this week to take care of that ticket," I smiled.
"You're not mad? I've been so afraid that you'd be mad at me all week." You were nearly in tears. My heart instantly melted. That was what you were worried about. Not about the $180—but about our relationship. We ended up having a splendid evening with the family, which would not have happened if I had chosen to hold a grudge.
The next day, I dug through the car to find that ticket. I looked at it carefully. It didn't look like a ticket; it looked like a warning. I guess the officer was just reminding us that speeding can cost roughly $180. I was relieved that I chose not to be angry with you, for if I had, it would have been over nothing at all.

I love that you embrace who I want to be.
When you were nearing the end of your mission, I deliberately remember thinking, Gosh, Curtis is probably a conservative boy. I guess I need to grow out my hair. So I did. Over the next year, I slowly let my locks grow to my shoulders. About a month into our marriage, I whispered to you solemnly during church.
"Curtis, I don't feel that I've been totally honest with you. I have something that I need to tell you."
Those words probably aren't the most comforting to hear shortly after you've married someone (and especially in church), but it's good this story ends well.
"It's my hair. It's just not...me."
"Well, what would you like to do about it?"
"I think I'd like to cut it."
"Ok. Cut it."
"Really? Don't guys like you love girls with long hair?"
"I just love you."
"But I'd like to cut it short."
"Ok."
"But I'm not sure..."
"Jessie, by the time I get home from church today, your hair better be gone."
"Yes, dear."
I came home while you helped the bishop count tithing and hacked away at my head with my long-lost scissors. Free at last!
I'm not sure I was fully aware of how wonderful of a trait this was in you. You always encourage me to do things that I really want to do, things that will help me be myself and be happy. I never have to be afraid of telling you I want something because I know you will always support me. Cutting my hair. Living in Japan (that's another story). Getting another bachelor's degree. Serving only salad for dinner. Working while you stay home with Sebastian. Dying my hair purple. Taking naps during the day. Using cloth diapers. And not only do you support me, you trust me. That is what free feels like.

Now, this list is in no way complete, but I figured it was a good start to help us remember why we are so good together. Four years has gone by fast, but at the same time, it feels as if this is always how it was meant to be. I love you and I'm grateful for you. Happy anniversary, Curtis.