Holly, Jolly, Holiday Season

Christmas is my absolute favorite time of year...partly because our little community totally rocks out Christmas celebrations. Our local tree lighting downtown, complete with hot cocoa and Brunswick stew, starts out the season with a bang. The following day we all join together again to watch the Christmas parade...most of the time in flip flops. {Florida, we're gaining on you.}

One of our traditions is to put the tree up the day of the Christmas parade. A tradition that comes from my childhood. Every year we would attend the parade, sometimes visit the winter carnival at the elementary school, then scoot home to put up our tree...all while listening to Dolly Parton's Christmas Hits on cassette tape. When Little Miss was little, I continued the tradition but instead of the winter carnival, we usually shopped for a new ornament or five at The Christmas Shop. This year was the last year The Christmas Shop would be open- and since they began their closeout sale in November- I couldn't bear to see the bare {slight pun intended} walls. I wanted to remember it how it looked when I was little- and for Little Miss to remember it how it was when she was little. So we skipped it, knowing a new tradition would have to take it's place eventually, but not this year. This year we sat out ornament shopping all together in honor of the fun memories we shared at The Christmas Shop.

In the weeks leading up to Christmas, we all enjoyed the silly visits from our Elf on the Shelf, Ruby. Her antics never cease to amaze us. {Except for that one night that she apparently got caught trying to fly back to the North Pole and had to remain in her original hiding spot...that was a perplexing morning- but we all made sure to stay quiet and get to bed early from there on out, to ensure that her magic wouldn't be seen.}

The night before Christmas, we baked cookies and went to Bub and Granddad's house for dinner. The turkey, the stuffing, the collards...{dear sweet baby jesus, the collards} it was all amazing. We were still full when I heard the stomping of tiny little seastar feet walking down the hall on Christmas morning.

"WAIT!!!" I said, dashing, prancing and dancing towards the living room. #reindeermoves

I stopped them just in time to get a picture of their faces as they ran passed us to check out their Santa stuff.

I, personally, think this was one of the best Christmas mornings yet. Thank you, little baby Jesus, for giving us a reason to celebrate with our family!

#HappilyEverSaunders

I remember the morning he asked me to marry him like it was yesterday. It was a warm and rainy Saturday morning in March. Our seastars were with their other parents and we were up early to head to the barn to feed our equine babies. I was looking forward to getting some barn time in because I had just started a new job at a law firm earlier that week.

I had no idea when he walked in the barn, where I was sitting on the feed bin, snuggling one of our horses, that he was about to ask me to be his wife. It couldn't have happened anymore perfectly. He literally had to lean over Lightning to kiss me and put the ring on my finger. 

We were so excited to share our news. And naturally, the first question(s) following 'Congratulations' was 'When are you setting a date? Or have you? Will it be a big wedding or small?' 

Over the next few months, we discussed plans...all while in the process of purchasing a home (where we could have our horses in our yard! #bestdreamcometrueever) and moving. We don't argue over much- but when it came to trying to plan a wedding without killing our life-budget? Instant tension. I have attended an insane amount of weddings and seen everything from high dollar to backyard throw-downs...and loved them all. We ultimately wanted the same thing- to live happily ever after, as a married couple. But how do we get there?

Our friends attempted to offer help, which ended up stressing me out more than anyone realized. While the suggestions were meant in a loving way, they became overwhelming. I didn't want a traditional wedding, but I wanted some key traditions.

"Let's just get married at the courthouse and have a reception somewhere" my then future-hubs told me.

"We can't do that...plus, I really want my dad to walk me down the aisle," I said.

We were very fortunate to have been offered to get married at our friend's gorgeous home- which did two things 1) cut costs way down #hugeblessing 2) made making reservations for a date much simpler.

"What if we just...have a surprise wedding? We could plan it as an engagement party...and get married."

"Let's do it."

The last week of August, we solidified our date for our surprise wedding. That's right, we planned an entire wedding in roughly 4 weeks and it couldn't have come together more perfectly.

A few weeks before our big day, I met with our amazing Pastor to discuss some details for our day. She was certain I was stopping by to announce that I was pregnant. #slowdown #wealreadyhave2 {I'm not pregnant.}

"No...but we are having a surprise wedding! And we want you to marry us!" I told her, excitedly.

"OHHHH!!!!! *squeal* OH!!! Your mom just recently shared her wedding story with me...your parents had a surprise wedding too!! How perfect!!" she said, squealing and rubbing her hands together with excitement.

As the days got closer to our "I Do" everything fell into place. We literally let Jesus take the wheel and trusted that everything would work out as it should. {Having faith is a powerful and beautiful thing}

The morning of September 26, 2015- I woke up with butterflies in my stomach. I was so excited to see everyone's faces and share our happiness with them. (A few select people knew ahead of time, because lets face it, we needed help to pull it off. I am so grateful for each and every person who helped us and kept our secret safe!) The rain that had loomed over our weekly forecast seemed to have faded and the forecast for the evening looked cloudy but dry. Whew!! I walked towards the bedroom door and heard my name being yelped from the hallway.

"Eden, my face is itchy..." said our littlest seastar.

I really wish we could have taken a photo of my face seeing her face for the first time that morning. Bless her sweet little heart, she had a rash covering the entire left side of her body. Thankfully, her Mimi whisked her off to Urgent Care to get some meds for the rash that we still have no clue what was caused from.

#tradedrainforarash

As the day went on, I realized over and over again how fortunate we are. Our parents were there to help prepare and share in our day. Our closest friends were with us to get ready and help set up our decor...we had a dream venue- we had the best photog and wedding planner in the world- who count as family. I couldn't image the day going any better.

As our guests arrived, I stood on the balcony and watched their surprised and excited expressions as they read the "Welcome to Our Wedding" sign.

"I'm in jeans!"
"I saw her yesterday, she didn't tell me!"
"OH MY GOD!!!!!! *Squeal*"

My favorite moment of the day was walking down the aisle with my daddy, who had the proudest smile on his face, and locking eyes with the man who has made all my dreams come true, and noticing that same proud smile on his face as he wrapped his arms around our girls.

Our day was absolutely perfect. We said "I do" in front of our closest friends and family...and it was truly about joining our families. There was no stress. No worry of this friend or that family member not getting along- everyone joined us and celebrated our love for each other like one big family...because that is what we are. One, big, gigantic, sometimes dysfunctional, sometimes a little wild, loving, giving, wonderful family.

Photography: Mary Basnight Photography
Wedding Planning: Best Day Ever OBX

What Makes Us Parents?

I am a mother. It is the most honorable title I hold. I'm a photographer...a legal assistant...a friend...{sometimes a pain in the artichoke}...a lover...a fighter. But mother, that is a title I didn't apply for. I was given that title by Little Miss and have worked diligently each and every day to live up to the high standards of those moms before me. {My family rocks it at motherhood, the shoes I stepped into were huge.}

I was blessed to gain this title initially in the most conventional way- I simply gave birth. {15 hours of labor, simple} I gave birth and then took care of my daughter, in order to hold onto the honorable title. Others become parents by marrying someone who has children already or adopting...which still allows them the respective parent title.

I heard the wheels squelch to a screeching halt as some of you read that. You can become a parent by marrying another parent? It's contagious like that?! Well, only if you're born to be a parent- only if it's in your heart already. You don't just 'poof' become a parent- you have to prove yourself, no matter how you become a parent. I have heard an argument recently regarding step-parenting that totally struck a nerve. Oh, he's so good with her kids. Or- She treats his kids just like hers, even though they aren't her blood. This baffles me for one simple reason- if you adopted a child, would you treat that child any differently than your biological, blood-related child? Of course not. So why is it so surprising when you see a step-parent being...*shock* good at their job? It all boils down to loving a child and making sure their needs are met. Why would anyone ever want a child to feel like they are less than wonderful? Or worse, like they are not good enough? We could all learn a lesson from our children in that respect- they love with their whole hearts. They tend to not see color or judge what is normal- they simply see a person who cares about them, no matter what blood relation or title exists.

In our our home, we opted not to call each other step-anythings. I'm not a step-mother...that sounds so cliche and Cinderella-ish. {I would never let my hair be gray or wear those awful gowns.} We are bonus parents. Our girls are 'sea-stars' and the our titles to them? We are BooMa + BooPa. {We have called each other Boo from the start...our kids are super creative- bam, our names were born.} Being a bonus parent does not take away from our little one's biological parents' position- it simply adds to it...an extra person to love, an extra person to learn from and look up to. Being a bonus parent and holding the title of BooMa is a pretty noble and rocking title, if you ask me. It was something I had to earn...and continue to have to earn. I am so proud to be able to add it to the list of my many titles.

Up next for new titles? Trick-rider. 

The Day the Blond Went Hunting

With hunting season rapidly approaching, I thought I would share about my first hunting experience which just occurred last fall. While I come from a hunting family, I am far from a hunter. I tend to be more apt to adopt something fury with four-legs, rather than murder it in cold blood hunt it...but I'm always up for trying something new...and was actually pretty excited for the experience.

I knew we would have to wake up in the wee-hours of the morning and assumed that there was not a coffee-maker in the Breaking Bad inspired 'bus' we were sleeping in. {Seriously, Walter White wouldn't even cook meth in this thing.} So, I snagged some bottled Frappucinos as a coffee-backup plan. I definitely didn't want to start out our morning of killing the defenseless without proper caffeination.

We hopped on the 4wheeler and set off down a dark path.

"Don't the deer hear us coming!?" I yelled asked.

"WHAT?!?!!" my sweet man replied.

"Don't the deer...nevermind."

I knew there was no way he could hear me over the 4wheeler motor.

A few moments later, we arrived at our deer stand. 

"Where does the 4wheeler hide? Don't the deer see that and think DANGER AHEAD?! I mean...in Bambi...." I was stopped by the look. The one that says, are you seriously asking me if deer sense danger? We are here to hunt- they get shot for a reason.

I moved on. I had a plethora of questions I needed answers to.

Once the 4wheeler was safely hidden in a nearby bush, we climbed into the deer stand. As the sun began to rise over the fields, I surprised myself. I was having such a good time taking in all the nature that surrounded me. The fog rising...the birds chirping...the crackle in the woods...wait.

"Is that a deer!?" I whispered, excitedly.

"No, it sounds like a bird or something. Shh," my sweet man said, trying so hard to be patient.

"Do you think it's a spotter?"

"A what?!"

"A spotter...for the deer. Like- they send out the bird first to peep the scene," I said, trying to keep a straight face. {peep the scene}

I got the look again.

"SHHHH" he said, lighting a cigarette- he seemed stressed for some odd reason.

"Don't they smell that!?" I asked.

He took a deep breath and put his head in his hands. 

I decided I would try to file some of my questions away for a later time. He clearly didn't appreciate my commentary. But I was just so curious.

I heard a gunshot in the distance. I had to fight the urge to scream, "RUN BAMBI RUN!!!!!!!" 

"Look!" my sweet fella whispered, pointing behind our stand.

Running through the field behind us were four deer. {Too far away to shoot at. Score!} Now, I couldn't tell you about racks or if it was a doe, ray or mi...but they were breathtaking. 

"Look how fast they are. I want to ride one!!" I said.

I got the look, followed by a Jesus.

As the excitement faded, I felt my eyes starting to get heavy. Knowing talking was not an option to keep me awake, I opted for my trusty Frappucino. If anyone has ever opened one of those, you know it's not the most quiet activity I could've chosen.

Crackle. Craaccccckle. Crackle. Crrrraaaaackle. 

"Sorry," I whispered.

The look.

Craccccckle.

"There. It's off," I said, proudly twisting off the top.

POP. {I had forgotten about the sealed top, whoops.}

"Seriously!?!?" my sweet(?) man yelped.

"SHHHH!!! You'll scare the deer!!" I replied, taking a sip of my coffee.

He looked at his gun. Clearly contemplating shooting something other than the deer. I got the look one last time before we climbed down from tree stand and headed back to Walt White's.

I wasn't banned from the hunting camp...but I was given much stricter instructions on trip #2. Along with duct tape.

Happy hunting!

Thanks to Roanoke...

Tonight wrapped the 2015 season of The Lost Colony. While Little Miss's season wrapped on Wednesday evening, we had to come back one more time to watch the final show.

I, personally, have watched the show so many times this summer that I catch myself whispering the lines along with the actors. {I may audition next year. Eleanor...do you need an understudy?} I have seen the rain dances, bug dances, hidden yawns...each night exhibited new excitement from the cast. But this week? This week was phenomenal. The emotion from each cast member was true. The audience felt it...they felt the pain of the colonist who'd lost loved ones- and who were uncertain of their own futures. They felt that pain because the cast members were truly hurting. The end of this season meant the end {somewhat} of their family. The end of meeting together each night to share in something that only they can really understand. 

I will admit, I was nervous when Little Miss took her part with The Lost Colony. I worried about all the things mothers worry about when they send their child off to school or a new extra-curricular activity. What if there is a bully? What if she doesn't make friends? What if she forgets her manners and is rude? What if...what if. Those worries faded almost immediately during her first performance. Whether it was Queen Elizabeth herself or a colonist, they all greeted Little Miss each night by name. They even learned who her Granddad was...and loved him just like she does. 

During tonight's show, we watched from the stands with Little Miss...who saw parts of the show for the first time- having missed them while she was on stage herself. I watched her eyes twinkle with excitement. I listened to her whisper, "watch for this part" or "gunshot coming!" to her little seastar. {seastar: best friend/step-sister...step-sister is so cliche} 

Toward the end of the play, Old Tom spoke from the roof...and tonight I heard his speech completely differently than I'd ever heard it before.

"Roanoke...Roanoke made a man...a man of me!" he exclaimed.

My eyes filled with tears. 

Oh, Roanoke...you have helped my baby grow this summer. You have taught her so much in these few short months. I am so grateful...grateful for the experience, the people, the talent...all of it.

As the cast made their final march through tears, I cried right along with them. While I hope Little Miss will join the cast again next year, there will never be another first year there...with this incredible cast of people. 

I have to make a special note to Mr. Jesse- who held Little Miss's hand each night as he told the story of The Lost Colony. You may never understand how special you are to us. In losing our "Big Gully" this same year, you brought a part of him to life for us. We love you...and will see you next summer, whether here or in Alabama!