The Big Day

Niels and Audrey were sealed for time and eternity May 17 in the Oakland Temple. We are so happy for them, happy to visit California, happy to win the airport merit badge for traveling with a cranky baby and Grandma Tana, happy to dress Kenna in a puffball of purple, and happy to play hotel sport court with Breckon and Madison and Brynne. Weddings are the best.

First Mothers Day

With my sweet little Kenna, I have officially joined the rank of mama, at last earning sacrament-meeting Mothers Day carnations and/or chocolate. A lot of work for a small token if you asked me. :) We donned our new dresses today for the occasion, K and me.

She is opinionated and cheeky, brave and silly, stubborn and vivacious as all get out. I like to think that she was meant for me.

In just eight months she has taught me things I never knew about myself, about life, about womanhood, and about my Father and Mother in Heaven. And of course, about my own mother, who I could not love and admire more than I do now.

It has been a humbling new world.

Striking Charts, Spence

Spencer now works for what I like to call the Goldman Sachs newspaper. He and a team of economists have to publish research every week.

His colleague was thrilled with the "beautiful charts" he made to show her research. And then the Financial Times did a piece on the research and called Spence's charts "striking." Which explains why we have hanging on our fridge the graphic depiction of the increase in the number of macro-prudential policies used by OECD countries. Naturally.

Lady of Leisure

"How does it feel to be a lady of leisure?" Grandma Tana asks. I'm just two days into my six-month leave, but so far, it feels great.

I've been kicking it with this little tulip.

More shots taken by the lovely Audrey Leifson at the Tulip Festival:

Introducing Kenna

We were delighted to have the fantastic Brad Slade (photographer for BYU Magazine) photograph 3-week-old Kenna. Obviously this is his best work yet (we may be a little biased).

Spencer Vs. CFA

He won. He is now a certified, level-one financial analyst. Too bad there are three levels. Let round two begin.

Hormonal and Pregnant Meltdown #11

I'll spare you 1 through 10, but I will post on the latest of what I like to call "emotional pregnancy moments."

We sold our motorcycle. And along with it, our youth.

The electric-blue Honda Shadow that was our same vintage, 1984. We've known/seen three people die this past year on motorbikes—one of them a friend's husband, leaving her with two kids. We'd sell ours when we got pregnant, we said, like rational human beings. And then wham—it became symbolic. The first of many things we did when we were fun, before children.

It was a sad day. Ashamed to say it was lip-quiver crying.