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samiam_247

@samiam_247

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Here’s to the life we’ve built, the love that brought us here, and all the chapters still unwritten. by @samiam_247

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a day ago

Maybe this year feels harder because you’re trying to become someone you’ve never been before.

More confident in your work.
More willing to take your experience seriously.
A mother who cares deeply for her family without losing herself.
A wife who makes room for her own dreams—and voices them out loud.
Someone who builds a career around the life she wants, rather than fitting her life around work.
Someone learning to care for herself while caring for everyone else.
Someone brave enough to imagine what comes next—and act on it.
And maybe
Maybe I don’t need to know every step.
Maybe I just need to make room for a future I haven’t completely figured out yet. by @samiam_247

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11 days ago

My mother-in-law brought running—and Mackinac Island—into our lives, a place filled with childhood memories for her and deep history for my husband.

Over time, running has become something much bigger to me than simply crossing a finish line. It has given me a reason to slow down, to challenge myself, to be present in the places I’m running through, and to create memories along the way. There is something special about seeing a familiar place differently on foot and realizing how much a season of running can hold.

My 2026 summer running season began in Minocqua, a place tied to my own family, and ended here on Mackinac Island, a place tied to my husband’s family. Somehow, it felt like bringing two family stories together through something that has become part of my own story, too.

What makes running even more meaningful now is being able to share these places and traditions with our children. They may not understand all of the history or meaning behind them yet, but they are beginning to create memories of their own.

Watching our children experience these places and traditions for themselves has been the sweetest part of our summer travels. I’m grateful for the memories we’ve inherited, the miles that have carried me through them, and the new memories we’re creating together. by @samiam_247

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17 days ago

This one hits a little differently as a parent.

I know what it feels like to be a child who doesn’t quite fit the way a traditional classroom expects you to. I struggled in a standardized classroom, thrived when I was homeschooled, and then found my footing again later in life when I had more control over how I learned.
That experience has changed the way I think about raising my own children.
I don’t want to teach them that there is one “right” way to learn, communicate, play, or experience the world. I want them to understand that sometimes the child beside them may need something different—and that different doesn't mean difficult, less capable, or less deserving of friendship.
I hope my children grow up knowing how to make room.
To notice the child who is struggling to find their place.
To be curious instead of judgmental.
To invite instead of exclude.
To choose kindness when they don't fully understand.
Because I know firsthand that sometimes, having someone make room for you can change everything.
And that's the kind of people I hope I'm raising. 🤍 by @samiam_247

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a month ago

Taking full advantage of reduced sales tax while it lasts—which means back-to-school shopping is officially in full swing. 🎒✏️🛍️
Apparently, I’m just here to spend my money and carry the bags. 🛍️😂

But somewhere between the aisles, the trying-on, and her very strong opinions about what absolutely must come home with us, I realized: My daughter is growing up.
She has discovered shopping—not just because she needs something, but because she enjoys discovering what she likes.
She’s sporty and girly. She can lose herself in the athletic section and then have me dragging her out of the makeup aisle. 😂
I shop for efficiency. She shops for discovery. And watching her has reminded me how much joy there is in figuring out what feels like you.
She has things she loves that I might never have chosen for her.
She is beginning to know herself.
And maybe that's one of the most important things we can give our daughters: room to discover who they are.

Confidence isn’t about looking like everyone else.
It’s about being able to say, I like this. I chose this. This feels like me.

When we got home, her dad wanted to see what she picked—the looks, all of it.
As she walked away, he looked at me and asked,
“When did that happen?”
I knew exactly what he meant.
Because parenting means slowly moving from making choices for them to teaching them how to make choices for themselves.
There can be boundaries. There can be budgets. There can be mistakes.
And there can still be joy.
We spend years teaching our children how to grow up. Then, if we're paying attention, they start teaching us how to let them.
She's teaching me to slow down and rediscover joy.
She's teaching her dad that supporting her doesn't mean giving her everything she wants—it means helping her learn to make choices, understand limits, and still feel supported.
And she's teaching both of us that the little girl we've spent years guiding is slowly becoming a person who will guide herself.
That's beautiful.
And it's hard.

So yes, I'll carry the bags.
He'll keep an eye on the budget.
And we'll keep letting her show us who she's becoming. by @samiam_247

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2 months ago

Families are built long before we realize we’re building them:
Before we became parents, we became dog parents.
We thought we were bringing home a puppy. Instead, we were learning what it meant to build a life around another living being.
We learned that love comes with responsibility. Someone has to get up. Someone has to remember. Someone has to adjust. Someone has to notice when something isn’t right.
And when two people are responsible for that little life, you learn about each other, too—how you give care, how you communicate, how you compromise, and how you step in when the other person has already carried enough.

He went from being our entire world to learning that sometimes our attention would be divided.
He has had to learn that babies were loud, toddlers were unpredictable, and little hands needed to learn how to touch, hug, and play with him safely.
He learned to share our laps.
Our attention.
Our home.
Our time.
He learned that sometimes the children were going to be the center of the room—and sometimes, if he waited long enough, someone would remember that he was there and give him exactly the attention he had been campaigning for. by @samiam_247

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2 months ago

Childhood isn’t built by one person alone. It grows through parents, grandparents, neighbors, mentors, teachers, and the many people who show up with love and consistency.
This week, my daughter spent time with her grandparents.
The week before, she was with her other set of grandparents.
Two weeks.
Two homes.
Two family histories.
One incredible gift.
Every person who invests in a child contributes something unique. Some pass down traditions. Others teach practical skills. Some offer encouragement, wisdom, laughter, or simply a place where a child knows they belong. by @samiam_247

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2 months ago

Movement has become one of the healthiest ways I care for my mind, body, and spirit. It gives me space to process life's challenges, quiet the noise, and return home as a better wife, mother, friend, and caregiver.
This finish line wasn't about a pace or a medal. It was about being greeted by the little faces who remind me why I keep showing up.
To my family, my friends, and everyone who has encouraged me along the way—thank you. Every mile has been made lighter because of the people who walked beside me.
Here's to choosing health, embracing growth, and remembering that the greatest victories are the ones we get to share by @samiam_247

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2 months ago

Small mouth bass, kiss my ass.- Because The real treasure of that lake was never the fish.

We grew up on a shoreline that didn’t belong to us, yet somehow always felt like it did. It’s a borrowed lake house that became a second home, filled with people who opened their doors wide enough for a whole pack of kids to tumble through.
Back then, I thought it was just summer fun — long days in the water, sandy feet on the porch, laughter echoing across the dock.
But as I got older, I realized what was really happening:
my parents’ friends were becoming the aunt and uncle I didn’t know I’d need,
their kids were becoming the cousins I chose,
and when my own family shifted and stretched apart, they were the ones who stayed steady.

Now my daughter runs the same shoreline I once did, learning from the same hands that taught me — how to cast a line, how to cook a meal, how to live with generosity and grit. They still welcome us in like nothing ever changed. Sharing recipes, advice, lake lessons, life lessons.

The lake house is a place my family loves.
But the truth is simple: we love it because of the people who made it feel like ours. by @samiam_247

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4 months ago

2 years ago you made me a mother all over again!

There is a special kind of fear that comes with loving a two-year old boy.
Especially one who seems determined to conquer the world before I have had time to check the terrain.

Sebastian- Abington is an absolute expert at confidently testing limits I didn’t know existed.
He has this belief that someone will always catch him.

It’s a strange thing to raise a child braver than you feel. A child who doesn’t hesitate where you would, a child who pushes forward while you whisper slow down.

Watching you grow is beautiful, watching you grow is terrifying, watching you grow is the greatest honor of my life. by @samiam_247

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4 months ago

I am a mother who knows what it feels like to lose herself — and what it takes to come back.
I’m proud of the woman who kept showing up, even when she was hurting.I’m proud of the mother who fought her way back to the present. I’m proud of the version of me who can finally look at her children and feel the fullness of this life again.
And I’m deeply grateful for every mother who held space for me while I found my way back.You were there even when you didn’t have a role to play or a purpose to fill.You were just there — and that was everything.
I know this weekend isn’t about my husband, but I need to say this:Aaron-Joseph, you are the one who filled the cracks.
When I couldn’t reach the edges of our life, you stepped in.You held the structure of our family together and made sure that when I finally emerged from the fog, there was still a beautiful life waiting for me.
Thank you for filling the gaps I couldn’t, and for loving me through the quietest battles.
Because of your presence, your patience, and your care for me, our children feel different to me now.Their laughter hits me deeper.Their faces look a little older, a little softer — a little more like themselves.
Their bond, their quirks, their growing independence…I’m noticing it all now, with a clarity I didn’t have when I was just trying to stay afloat. by @samiam_247

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5 months ago

This season, Vivian has been my reminder that hope and joy aren’t loud or dramatic — they’re steady, gentle, and tucked into the smallest moments. She’s shown me that every day holds the potential for growth, connection, and unexpected beauty.

But here’s the honest part of my story:
The holidays have always been complicated for me.

I love the idea of the season — the magic, the warmth, the nostalgia — but the reality often feels overwhelming. The prep work stresses me out. The clutter disrupts my rhythm. The décor shifts the entire energy of my home. And when it’s all over, the takedown feels like a mountain I never meant to climb.

For years, I thought I was just being a “Ba humbug.”

This year, someone gently named what was really happening:
My nervous system leans into OCD‑like patterns during the holidays.

Not in a clinical or stereotypical way — but in the way my brain craves order, routine, and visual calm. When the environment shifts, so does my internal balance. And suddenly, the season that’s supposed to feel magical feels… destabilizing.

But here’s the growth:
Naming it didn’t shame me.
It freed me.

It helped me understand that I’m not resisting joy — I’m resisting overwhelm.
I’m not avoiding the season — I’m protecting my peace.
And I’m not broken — I’m learning myself more deeply.

This year, my birthday gift was a decorated front‑porch Christmas tree.
At first, I felt dismayed — overwhelmed, annoyed, thrown off.
But then I looked at my family… the way they had planned every detail, the joy on their faces, the pride in their eyes. And something in me softened.

My dismay turned into love.
My overwhelm turned into gratitude.
And I kept that tree on my porch for as long as I possibly could.

Because sometimes growth looks like letting joy in even when it arrives in a form that challenges you.
Sometimes love looks like allowing the people around you to surprise you.
And sometimes healing looks like holding both truths at once — the beauty and the discomfort, the magic and the mess. by @samiam_247

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10 months ago