Days stretch on and on while the years fly by.
Which is how I have come to be a17 year old girl living in the body of a 35 year old woman who falls into bed exhausted at the end of every long day but has no idea how her babies have grown so quickly.
Joel and me in Sitka, Alaska with the ship in the background.
One year ago we were on a cruise ship, visiting quaint Alaskan villages and gorging ourselves with food.
We were packing up our lives, getting ready to bring them 2,000 miles away to a new job, a new home and an unknown life.
We were saying our farewells, simultaneously glad to be moving on and sorry to go.
At Joel's big graduation: The Maestro, his mother, me, and the girls.
Four years ago Joel had just graduated with his doctorate, a hard-earned triumph we thought would never come.
I was expecting Sophia, at the tail end of my pregnancy. Finally feeling a little better and able to cope with packing up the house.
I was packing the house on faith and faith only, because we did not know where we would be going until July, only that we would be going.
Chloe's blessing day, about a month before we moved to Arizona.
Seven years ago, we were living with my parents for a month while we prepared to move to Arizona for grad school.
I had just delivered Chloe, my second daughter, and was adjusting to life with two children.
I was terrified to be moving so far away from my mother and the rest of my family. I was mostly worried about being able to find my way around such a big metropolitan area as Phoenix.
At Sundance, celebrating our first anniversary.
Ten years ago, my husband and I celebrated our first wedding anniversary.
We had just purchased our first car together: A new-to-us Chevy Prizm that Joel researched for months before committing to purchase.
I had just found out the baby I was carrying was a girl, and I thought life couldn't get any better.
Me as a missionary in Romania, with a member there named Daniela.
Thirteen years ago, I was somewhere in Brasov, Romania trudging down streets and alleys, looking for people to teach.
I was near the end of my LDS mission, finally comfortable speaking a foreign language in a country that was not my own.
I was happier than I'd ever been, working harder than I'd ever worked and eagerly looking forward to going home to continue school and life, to get married and have a family.
All of the "Young Performing Missionaries" as we were called, in front of the Nauvoo Visitor's Center.
Fifteen years ago, I was on a stage at the Visitor's Center in Nauvoo, singing and dancing the stories of the early saints.
I gave daily tours with my companion at the Brigham Young Home and the Jonathan Browning Home.
I had never before felt such a burning testimony of the Gospel as I did walking the streets where Joseph Smith walked and dedicating every hour of my day to teaching people about the early history of my faith.
A High School Graduate with big dreams and the big hair to prove it.
Eighteen years ago, I had just graduated from high school, sure that I was more than ready to tackle the world head-on.
I eagerly looked forward to beginning classes at BYU as a music major.
I thought I knew everything, but really, I had no idea just how little I actually knew.
Time is a funny thing.
The years stretch out behind us, and each day brings a new challenge and a new opportunity to learn and grow.
Which is how I came to be a 35 year old woman who still feels like she is 17, but who knows much, much more than she ever imagined she could a mere 18 years ago.