Isn’t it crazy how our first impressions of someone can be completely wrong? I’ve had people tell me I look more like a Keisha than a Jennifer (what?!). I’ve seen mouths drop when I state that I graduated from BYU and yes, we’re Mormon (though technically not called that anymore). We’ve all had our share of wrong first impressions.

Before my husband and I had our first date I had a picture in my mind of what he would look like. We’d spoken on the phone and I knew he grew up for awhile in North Carolina, was a big sports fan, his mom was from Atlanta (like me!) and he served a mission in the Caribbean. I assumed tall dark and handsome. I was not expecting a cute white dude from Utah. Now this is another story for another day. But what I will say is through the years I’ve continued to learn a lot about first impressions.

We met on that blind date of sorts, 15 years ago this week. I thought he was cute, but a bit quiet. A little funny. Based on that first impression, I wasn’t sure it was going to work. I didn’t know if he’d get me. But it only took a couple more dates for me to realize that this guy was made for me. From serenading me with 90s R&B, to introducing me to fry sauce and Cafe Rio.

Throughout our years together we’ve had a lot more first impression mixups. People not realizing we are together in line, people assuming I’m not my daughter’s mom, people assuming he’s not our son’s father, and other things here and there that honestly, (and thankfully) feel most like distant memories at this point. But one thing that’s bothering me more than I realized is an assumption people make when my husband puts on his work uniform.

“Do people ever call you racist?” I asked him one afternoon in passing.

“HA!” He shouted in response. “Are you joking?”

I’ll admit the question was kind of a joke. I knew angry people called him that sometimes but I don’t think I knew (and still don’t know) the extent.

“Every day,” he said. Like, multiple times a day. As in, when responding to a call, while monitoring a protest, or randomly yelled at a passerby driving down the street.

It doesn’t really bother him. He’s used to it. And it didn’t used to bother me. Mainly because I’d resorted to it coming with the territory. But recently an acronym appeared in a comment below one of my Instagram photos that sent my into a fury.

First off, let me say that this wasn’t from any of my lovely followers. The photo was of Lil’ J and I at her daddy’s graduation from the police academy about 7 years ago. I used it for a partnership about helping the homeless. Well the post was promoted across the platform and reached many many more people. Many strangers. Strangers that didn’t like 1. Our interracial marriage. And 2. The fact that he was a police officer.

I can’t even tell you the level of horrendous comments some people had the gaul to write. Most of them surrounding the fact that he would likely kill me, or how disgusting our relationship was. Some dared to say that “given the climate” our photo was insensitive. Excuse me? Are these the same types of people who would say that a black person trying not to sit in the back of the bus in the 50s was being insensitive given the climate? I’m sorry but our existence isn’t a political statement.

I digress…

I noticed four capital letters that seemed to be repeated over and over by numerous commenters (before I shut the comments off completely).

“ACAB.”

After awhile my curiosity was piqued so I googled it and learned it stands for “All cops are bastards.”

Well that’s not very nice.

My entire life I’ve been put off by stereotypes.

Assuming all women are ______.

All black people are _______.

People assuming I got the job because I’m black. Or that’s the reason I got into college, ignoring the hard work and straight As.

Then it brought me back to a section of a book I read that embodies what I was feeling.

A lot of us would get upset if my kids or I was called the N word. My husband would probably lose his mind. But do I get upset when I see someone call him a pig?

There’s a part in Brene Brown’s book, Braving the Wilderness where she sums up her beliefs and fully encompasses my conflicted feelings on the matter:

Here’s what I believe:

1. If you are offended or hurt when you hear Hillary Clinton or Maxine Waters called bitch, whore, or the c-word, you should be equally offended and hurt when you hear those same words used to describe Ivanka Trump, Kellyanne Conway, or Theresa May.

2. If you felt belittled when Hillary Clinton called Trump supporters “a basket of deplorables” then you should have felt equally concerned when Eric Trump said “Democrats aren’t even human.”

3. When the president of the United States calls women dogs or talks about grabbing pussy, we should get chills down our spine and resistance flowing through our veins. When people call the president of the United States a pig, we should reject that language regardless of our politics and demand discourse that doesn’t make people subhuman.

4. When we hear people referred to as animals or aliens, we should immediately wonder, “Is this an attempt to reduce someone’s humanity so we can get away with hurting them or denying them basic human rights?”

5. If you’re offended by a meme of Trump Photoshopped to look like Hitler, then you shouldn’t have Obama Photoshopped to look like the Joker on your Facebook feed. There is a line. It’s etched from dignity. And raging, fearful people from the right and left are crossing it at unprecedented rates every single day. We must never tolerate dehumanization—the primary instrument of violence that has been used in every genocide recorded throughout history.

My life circumstances have forced me to have a more open mind but I still make mistakes. I’m still learning. Really, we all are. And real courage comes when we’re brave enough to admit that.

In reality you know nothing about a person at first glance. You could make assumptions. But you’re risking being very wrong.

15 years ago I had the wrong first impression of my husband. But I’m glad I said yes to a second date.

“I didn’t know you felt that way about me, we don’t really talk much.” Those words hit me like a pile of bricks. It’s not something you’d expect to hear from your little sister.

My youngest sister is 13-years-old. Yea, 19 and a half years younger than me, and it’s true, in the past we haven’t spoken much. We never lived under the same roof. In fact, I was married before she was born. When she and my mom moved to Texas a few years ago things didn’t change a ton. I still saw her as a little sister (little sisters can still be annoying even when you’re an adult). As time has gone by though I’ve watched her grow and mature and I’ve been really impressed with her.

She gets good grades, is a good role model, helps me with my pictures, puts family before friends…. All things I wrote in a card for her for her birthday. I didn’t really realize it but I’ve never stopped to tell her all of these things. So how could she know?

Sometimes it’s hard to tell people exactly how we feel. Sometimes a card can find the words we can’t form ourselves. And sometimes a card is the perfect channel for putting down words you otherwise would find hard to say. Writing down those words gives a gift of good feelings to relive over and over every time they read it.

Getting all sentimental and mushy isn’t easy for me. Especially not with my little sister who is a teenager now. But it’s not a great excuse for not telling people we care about how we feel.

Hallmark has launched the Put it into Words campaign. Now more than ever the world needs more caring, and Hallmark cards can help.

Being a part of this has really helped me to realize how many people in my life inspire me and make my life better. And it’s helped me see how impactful letting them know can mean for both of us. I’m making it a point to put those feelings into words and giving more cards to share how I feel. Because if not now. Then when?

Visit Hallmark for inspiration or click here to see more cool stories of how cards made a difference. There you can also enter for a chance to win free cards for a year and a $500 gift card to use on someone special in your life.

All morning I’ve had that Alicia Keys and Usher song “My Boo” stuck in my head.

Yesterday my boo and I took hands and ran away. Not too far. Just a bed and breakfast a few towns away. Though our anniversary is just a couple days before Christmas we try to make it a point to go off by ourselves at least a night or two every year. Thanks to his parents, we’ve made it happen again.

This year I’m especially grateful for him. For all he’s endured with my insanely busy work year. For how loving and supportive he is with our kids. I love how he’s hid the dang elf on the shelf ever day this month because I’ve been too sick and tired to do it. I love how he lets me sleep in on his days off. He calms me down and makes me laugh when I’m totally freaking out.

I love how he’s absolutely not what you’d expect at first glance. I love how he puts family before everything. And I love the way he says “pillow” (like “yellow”).

I asked him if he could meet anyone who it would be and he said Oprah, because then I could meet her. If that’s not love I don’t know what is.

I like to think there’s someone for everyone. And I feel extremely lucky to have found my someone.

13 years down with my boo. Here’s hoping for 113 more.

I was married a few weeks before my 19th birthday. See what I did there? I don’t like to actually say that I was 18. Though technically I was. My husband was 22. Back then we were young, and (more) fun. But I still had a lot of growing up to do when it came to being a wife.

Our ward (church congregation) was comprised of young married adults, mostly without kids. One winter we went snowboarding on a bunny hill. Other times we had potlucks and game nights, but there was frequently something interesting going on.

I’ve loved getting out and experiencing new activities. My husband has been a good trooper, putting up with my requests to go out, even when he’d rather stay home. Thirteen years later we’re at a place where we each know when to pick our battles, and when the other is insistent. But about eleven years ago, we were still figuring that out.

I’ll never forget one winter, I wanted to attend a snow tubing activity. I’d never been before and I was really looking forward to it.

The morning of, my husband told me he wasn’t feeling well. That he was “sick.” Well sick usually meant a headache. It was a regular battle for us, and usually the source of his complaint. When I had a headache I’d take some ibuprofen and wait for it to wear off. I didn’t understand how this was different for him. I also didn’t understand he was dealing with migraine, which, I didn’t realize until later, was totally different.

See, migraine when untreated can last anywhere from four hours to three full days. They’re usually accompanied by nausea and/or light/sound sensitivity. You may have chronic migraines if you’re suffering from headache symptoms 15 or more days out of the month.

I thought my husband was just trying to get out of going out.

I mean, sure, I realized he might have had a headache, but I didn’t think it could be anything that would have to keep us from going.

We were at odds. I was completely frustrated that he couldn’t suck it up, and he was upset that I only cared about going tubing.

We missed that activity and stayed mad at each other all day, I completely dropped the ball on being a nurturing wife.

Wife of the year here!

I’ve been better since then, especially after experiencing my own migraines when I was pregnant with our son. But I’d be lying if I said I was awesome at it. I try to offer help, and keep the kids away so he can rest when one comes on. Though sometimes deep down, in the back of my mind, I’m thinking ‘Come on! Suck it up!’

It’s completely different with my kids though. I jump through hoops, taking vomit in the face like a champ.

Luckily through the years he doesn’t get them as frequently. After some urging he went to the doctor and got some pointers on migraine relief. And now that I know more about what they are, it’s helpful. If you suffer from what feels like chronic headaches consider checking in with your doctor. In my last blog post with Med-IQ I shared some information to bring with you to the doctor.

This is a busy, stressful time of year. Keep a headache diary, then if you go to your appointments fully prepared to tell your story, and outline the time, symptoms and impact, you’ll receive a much quicker diagnosis and a clearer path to relief. Then stick to the plan they create for you, which should include some medications and lifestyle management strategies.

Med-IQ is interested in gaining the participation of as many people as possible to raise awareness in the community about migraines and chronic migraines. If you can spare just 10 minutes of your time, please take this quick survey to help. As a thank you, you’ll be entered to win a $100 Visa gift card!

My opinions are all my own. I was compensated to write this blog post. It is sponsored by Med-IQ and supported by an educational grant by Teva Pharmaceuticals.

It seems a little bizarre that I’m only 30 years old but celebrating my 12th anniversary today. Mathematically it doesn’t seem right. But what can I say–I was a young bride (I’ll be 31 in a few weeks) and we were in love.

Lucky for us, we still are.

More than any anniversary before I wanted to get away this year–Not far away, close enough to get home easily for Christmas but far enough so that we feel like we’ve escaped.

First of all–Who gets married two days before Christmas? College kids, that’s who. College kids who have a break between semesters to have a quick (and insanely cheap) honeymoon and get back before classes start.

Of course back then we didn’t think it was a big deal to be married right before Christmas, we thought it was pretty cool actually. Now, six years into parenthood every year I ask myself what we were thinking! How did we not have the wisdom to think ahead to parenthood?

You just don’t when you’re 18/22 I guess. At least we didn’t.

So we’ve escaped to a wooded hideaway a few cities away surrounded by trees, hammocks and running water. Our only plans are to pig out (I’ve already eaten about two dozen chocolate covered strawberries), watch movies, laugh until we cry watching news bloopers and other amusing YouTube videos, get a couples massage and relish in the child-free silence.

It was something else waking up this morning without curls in my face and a toddler laying on top of me. I’m used to starting the night with a husband in bed then waking up the next day with a missing husband, two kids and a dog all on my side of the bed. Today I woke up the same way I fell asleep, without interruptions and I can honestly say I’d forgotten what that was like.

One thing I’ve found myself saying to my husband over and over yesterday and today is “wow, we really know each other!” We are so different. SO different in so many ways. Personality wise especially. But I get him and he gets me and it works. Let me give you an example from this week.

My mom offered to give us her piano. It’s a beautiful upright and since Lil’ J and I have been taking lessons I was really excited to get one. Well my husband was NOT excited about us getting a piano. “The kids will bang on it… Where will we put it?”… blah blah blah.

Logistics. He doesn’t like them. So I handle them.

So one night as he went out to get dinner, I strategically timed the piano movers to bring it in then, rearranged the living room furniture, cleaned everything up and snuck everyone out. When he got home he wouldn’t even have noticed it if our daughter hadn’t pointed it out as soon as he walked in.

“Woah, when did that get here?” he said. I explained and he said “cool!”

But did he freak? No. Because all the work was done. And it looks great!

Twelve years in and we know each other’s buttons, likes and dislikes. We have our moments, like all couples, but I couldn’t have asked for a better husband or father to our kids. I don’t talk about him here too much but my husband is loyal, funny, cynical, compassionate, and thoughtful. He’s my best friend and my biggest cheerleader. He thinks some of my goals and dreams are crazy but he never tells me to give them up. He’s the ying to my yang, and I’m so happy I have him.

I’m normally a “let’s pack in lots of fun stuff” kind of gal for our anniversary but I thought this year–Especially with the year we’ve had, it would be nice to slow down.–Which is totally his jam. So I’m typing up this little tribute from a little queen bed while he watches some sports show.

After hitting publish we’ll head out to lunch and I may eat a few more strawberries.

I love this man of mine.

12 years down and forever to go.

I’m so glad we were able to get away for our anniversary the memories are truly priceless. If you’re looking for a way to have a priceless get away during the holidays and beyond, get the most bang for your buck using IHG Rewards. Big thanks to IHG Rewards for sponsoring my priceless anniversary story.

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I love taking a walk down memory lane and seeing the crazy things I used to say on this here blog. Oh man, if I could time travel–Wait, I think I wrote about that already.

But really, if I could go back in time at this very moment to the day I was writing these posts about raising multiracial babies, I’d have a lot to say to her–me–myself. But mostly it would be: SIT DOWN!

Let’s start with #1.

#1 My baby face generator obsession

I spent way too much time playing with online tools that left me worrying my baby might come out looking nothing like me and more like someone from the Addams family.

And I quote myself from seven years ago “I’m going to be honest here… I would like a baby girl but really all I want is 1. A healthy baby and 2. A cute baby. Boy or girl, if Spawnie is cute (not just to me, but like to everyone) I’ll be happy!”

I’m not sure if I was really being as honest as I said I was. I kind of don’t doubt her… That silly young girl who thought how her baby looked would affect her love for her child.

Reality: Your kids are cute to you. No matter if they’re 10 shades darker or 10 shades lighter than yourself, have brown, blond or red hair, you are going to love that child of yours with all your heart.

#2: Nanny mixups

“My friend mentioned earlier said people have mistaken her as the nanny before and see — I’m not sure I’d be able to handle that in a nice way. Or what if our daughter takes more of my complexion, and when my husband’s out he’s asked where he got our daughter from, implying she’s adopted.”

Reality: Been there, done that, we survived. I think there’s a little bit of shock the first time it happens when your baby is tiny and sitting still and you’re more aware of glances and whatnot. Now? Goodness gracious I can make it through an entire shopping trip without making eye contact with anyone, much less notice if anyone gives us awkward glances. And when someone does flat out ask what’s up, we usually laugh it off. Because honestly? We pick our battles.

Now when someone says this … That’s a different story.

#3: Will our kids drive us further apart?

“I’ve heard children can bring you closer together but I’ve also heard they can drive you further apart… I hope our love for the Lord can keep us from driving each other crazy after kids!”

Reality: This was something on my mind before kids and from time to time it creeps back up. In fact, out of all of handful of pre-baby worries I’m re-living today, this one is probably the most valid. Funny enough, this one has nothing specifically to do with raising multiracial babies, it is a fear any parent could find on their mind.

Kids DEFINITELY change things. We don’t get nearly enough alone time to have adult conversations much less date nights. Our kids are both finally sleeping in their own rooms for most of the night–That’s something. But our children haven’t gotten between us emotionally. In that regard they’ve brought us closer together.

I’d tell my younger self to enjoy those pre-kid moments together. As insanely boring as they seem, they’re the last boring moments we’ll share together in the foreseeable future.

#4: My multiracial kid won’t have anyone to date

“I worry especially that my daughters will face the same [dating] challenges I faced growing up, but won’t deal with it as I did…I worry my sons will have a hard time finding women to date because their parents don’t want their daughter child “dating a black boy.”

Reality: HA HA HA. My kids are never dating, and I like it that way. Seriously, this was a non-issue. Next!

#5: A desire for open-minded friends

“I hope as my children grow up they meet other children who are taught to have friends of all races, and date people of all nationalities.”

Reality: Right now, this actually falls a lot more on me than I expected. I’m with my kids way more than I imagined I’d be (I don’t know why in my mind I imagined them schlepping off to slumber parties with acquaintances at the mere age of 3). I meet the other kids’ parents and 99% of the time, I’m talking to mom and/or dad while my kids are playing with their friends. You can tell pretty quick if someone is going to have a problem with you or your relationship and I can choose to distance ourselves from those people. We have been blessed with amazing neighbors, church friends and now homeschool friends from all backgrounds. Beyond that, we are branching out of our own bubbles as well. Consuming books and literature about people and places that are different from us.

I think like tends to attract like and we’ll keep meeting families and friends who have the same wish for their children.

Many of these worries have deescalated or dissolved since having my kids, and others have had new ones take their place.

For us, parenting has been much less about bracing ourselves for the hardships that can come from raising multiracial children, and much more about raising children to become compassionate members of society who know where they come from and where they want to go.

Were your pre-baby expectations different than your reality?

Today I’m linking up with some other wonderful mamas who are sharing their stories of multicultural motherhood.

What to Expect When You’re Expecting Multiracial Babies/ De Su Mama

Will My Child Look Like Me? Thoughts from a Multicultural Mom /Raising Whasians

How to Prepare for a Multicultural Family / Almost Indian Wife

Books for the Multicultural Family / Are Those Your Kids

If you couldn’t tell, there’s no one I love more than these three people. Right after church Lil’ J and I worked together cutting up a pizza box and fabric to make a heart for pictures together. We took turns with my camera taking photos together. I shoulda tried one more with my remote, but the boys weren’t very patient.

Tough choices for today’s photo of the day. I’m not gonna lie, there were many many outtakes. But I’m so happy with the few good ones we got, including one of the hubby and I taken by my little girl, today I’m focusing on the positive. *wink*

Happy Valentine’s Day!

My daughter and I sat side by side at the kitchen table while she worked on a Valentine’s art project for school. We sipped on some colorful Tampico to match, and had a little girl chat. She told me one of her friends is in love with a boy. I didn’t realize these conversations started so young. I mean I thought 5-year-olds still had cooties.

I asked her if she was in love with anyone and she told me no.

“Not even with me?” I asked.

“NO!” She said. “Daddy is in love with you! But I love you!”

Ok… My 5-year-old was suddenly schooling me on love. How did she know the difference between parental and romantic love? Seriously, how is this happening?

“I have to be in love with a boy,” she said. A hundred thoughts shot through my mind in that instant but the one that came out of my mouth first was the one that rang most important in that instant.

“Well, you can tell me when you are. And that may be a long LONG time time from now.”

As we sat and I watched her painting her colorful Valentine box and I thought about how much I love her. How much I love her love of arts and crafts, her colorful and bright spirit, and her quest to learn more and more about the world. Her innocence and natural sense of kindness. I want her to stay young. And I only want her to love me (and her dad and brother, ok and other family) for at least the next decade and a half.

*Frantically searches for the pause button*

At the time of this post Lil J is 5 years and 7 months.

*This story was brought to you in partnership with Tampico. For more photos of my girl and her cute Valentine box visit Tampico is Color.