melting snow // forever memories


I’m sitting in our hotel room after running through the streets of Boston. Not “running for exercise”, running. We “ran” home from breakfast (we found a local joint that we love, and have eaten there for the last three mornings) in the biting wind and cold.


I’m positioned next to our in-room fireplace, and in between staring at the flames and listening to the crackling wood, I’m thinking of all of the many memories I’m going to take home with me.


To many, traveling with kids isn’t their ideal. It seems that they struggle through the whole event, making the best of it. While traveling with young ones indeed presents unique challenges, It also (at least for my husband and I) exposes us to beautiful and simple pleasures that we may have not noticed, otherwise.


Children are captivated by their senses and not afraid to share their raw emotion, at the drop of a hat. I love that about kids – they are so genuine. They also notice things we won’t – they are at a different level, not concerned by details, timelines and itineraries; free to see. It takes so much less to impress and please them, than adults.


My girls had never seen snow before this trip. I have an almost ten year old, almost seven year old, and one that is just three.  Upon learning there might be snowfall, the girls went absolutely insane. They knew what they had missed out on, all these years – the photos of snow have left them wondering what it must feel, taste and look like. They lived in anticipation for a good 24 hours – excited for something that adults on the street are completely annoyed with (and I’m not saying I wouldn’t be, if I had to shovel it!)


When they woke up, they wouldn’t stop asking, “When will it start?!” and I just held my breath, waiting. If it didn’t snow, I knew I’d feel so sad for them. We walked down to the hotel lobby, where the girls had made so many friends – the concierge, the bell men and valets. My middle child (who prayed for snow twice the evening before) was talking to a lady behind the desk when a man walked in and announced, “Well, it’s snowing. It’s started.”


(Polly was skeptical of public transportation but quickly fell in love with the “train”.)

My daughter screamed. She ran to the door and screamed again, “IT’S SNOWING MOM DAD IT’S SNOWING.”

I started crying.

The joy my girls had, upon seeing snow for the first time, was every feeling I had ever wanted to feel, as a parent, all rolled into one precious and melting moment, that I felt come over me like the first taste of a warm drink when you are frozen to the bone. I felt like laughing and crying and hugging everyone in my reach.

But I just stood there and watched. Watching as my girls ran outside and opened wide their mouths to catch snowflakes.

I will never forget that moment. Ever.


That moment, and so many others, are the reason I cherish living every day with my girls. Traveling with them, talking with them, teaching them, and raising them alongside my beautiful husband.

In between moments of frustration and exhaustion is sandwiched so many moments of sheer magic. And often, when I choose to stop being an adult and slow down, I recognize that the magical moments happen all the time, really.

I just miss them because one day, long ago, I grew up.

cradle of liberty // traditions born


(A portrait of Alexander Hamilton in the MFA, which you simply must visit)

I feel like I’m not the only person who isn’t all together broken-hearted to see 2017 in the rear-view mirror. It was a difficult year for so many I know, including our little family of five. 2017 was a year of change, transition, learning and growth, and December finds my husband and I more grateful than ever for one another, and our close group of loved ones.


(The girls and I in Harvard Yard at the Widener Library)

While the past three hundred and sixty five days presented some challenges, my spouse was quick to remind me, the other evening, that there were some amazing things that occurred in 2017 – As such, I’m choosing to focus on my thankfulness for those moments, and the memories that surround them.  God isn’t only good during the years that we are happy with the outcomes. No, He is good all the time, and deserving of my gratefulness and trust in His ultimate plan.


(Lunch at Union Oyster House – the oldest operational restaurant in the U.S)

Sean and I decided that a wonderful way to end a year, with so many learning experiences, would be a trip. We decided on Boston. The children and I have never been and being an armchair historian, I’ve been dying to go. Like, DYING.


(Sean and Frankie eating breakfast at The Friendly Toast, which was divine)

I want to write an entire post about the research I did and itinerary I created (maybe I will someday, but currently I’m in a hotel room with three kids under 10 years old so….yeah.) Suffice it to say, I’m crossing off so many bucket list destinations and having an amazing time, in a beautiful and bustling city.


(The grave of Paul Revere. I may have cried. Maybe)

The husband and I have decided a December family vacation (if it’s financial option) should become a Reeves family tradition. Everything from the plane ride, to the city walks, to the early morning (freezing) walks down Boylston, have been delightful. Of course there have been normal irritations and difficulties – how could there not be? But those things are so overshadowed by the simple gratefulness for this opportunity.


(Granary Burying Ground – est. 1660 on the Freedom Trail. One of my favorite stops.)

Sometimes it takes a difficult year (or two, in my case) to grow a grateful heart into an EXTREMELY grateful life disposition. I feel like I am continually thinking about all the blessings in my life – more so than I ever have before – and I have heartache to thank for it.


(I’m only a *little* excited to be here. Just a bit.)

Boston has been incredible, and it’s only our third day. I have so many thoughts, reviews and “feels” about visiting the “Cradle of Liberty” but I don’t have the time to write as concisely and perfectly as I would see fit to do.


(Freedom Trail, here come the Reeves gals!)

Take my word for it – Boston is remarkable. If you’re a history-loving patriot like I am, you’ll fall in love instantly.


(Samuel Adams!!)


(The site of the first U.S. Public School – Boston Latin School. Now memorialized by beautiful hopscotch ground art)

Beantown…’ve stole my heart.

*this is just day 1+2 of our trip, so there will be more to share, I’m certain…..


(The Reeves take over the infamous Duck Tour. Worth it.)