I still remember the magic of the American Girl store in Chicago like it was yesterday. My mom, grandma, sister, and I made the trip together, and in my little-girl eyes, that place was nothing short of a dream. Towering displays, endless dolls, matching outfits, it was like stepping into a storybook. But what really stuck with me wasn’t the shopping. It was teatime. We sat down with our dolls for a dainty little tea service, complete with tiny sandwiches, sweet treats, and fancy pink lemonade. I felt so grown-up and so full of joy, like the whole day had been made just for us.

I still remember calling my mom in absolute tears over a C I got on a paper in college. I was an A student, straight As were my thing, so getting a C felt like total devastation. It wasn’t even my final grade, just one assignment, but at the time, it felt like the end of the world. I was dramatic, panicked, and convinced I’d just ruined my GPA and possibly my entire future (classic college meltdown energy).

My mom has a saying for everything, and one of her favorites is: “Haste makes waste.” Growing up, we’d hear it whenever someone rushed through their homework, tried to cook without reading the recipe, or basically did anything too fast without thinking it through. At the time, I didn’t think much of it, just another mom phrase. But on a ski trip to Mammoth one year, that saying hit a little too close to home.

One summer, my mom and I decided we were going to be those people, you know, the effortlessly minimalist, travel-light kind. We packed for our summer family vacation with the bare minimum: a few mix-and-match pieces, one tunic that could be a dress or a shirt (versatility, right?), and a single pair of pants each. It felt efficient. It felt freeing. It felt like we were winning the packing game. My sister, on the other hand, did not play the game. Unlike us, she packed her entire closet! 

That was one of my mom’s go-to sayings growing up, especially during our piano lesson years. My sister and I both took piano, and let me tell you, those lessons came with a strict practice schedule. We weren’t just playing, oh no, we had to log a certain amount of practice time before our next lesson, and my mom made sure we hit those numbers. I remember so clearly sitting at the piano bench, hearing my friends laughing and playing outside, and thinking Why me? But there was no getting around it, no practicing, no playing.

My mom used to say, “One shouldn’t miss the forest for the trees,” and honestly, I didn’t really get it as a kid. She said it all the time, when we were rushing through things, focusing on the little stuff, or just generally not paying attention to the bigger picture. One time it really stuck was during a family RV trip we took across the U.S. My mom, dad, sister, and I hit the road in this huge, moving house of a vehicle, and to me, that was the coolest part. I was obsessed with the bunk beds, the snacks, the fact that we could literally eat cereal while flying down a highway.

There’s a saying my mom always loved: “Even the strongest oak leans in a storm.” It's one of those little nuggets of wisdom that really sticks with you over time, especially when you’ve seen it in action. I remember the time we took my 98-year-old great-grandma to the zoo, just my mom, my sister, and I. We were excited to see the polar bears, but there was one problem: to get there, we had to climb a steep hill. Now, my mom, being practical, suggested we call a zoo staff member for a ride up. But my great-grandma, in all her determination, wasn’t hearing it. “I can walk,” she insisted. And off we went, up that hill, one slow step at a time.

One of the sayings my mom always told me was, “The first step is always the hardest.” I remember vividly how the phrase rang true when we moved to a new area, and I had to start a brand-new school. It was the first year the school was opening, so everything felt unfamiliar. But my mom knew how to ease the anxiety and make the unknown feel a little more exciting.

I still remember the magic of the American Girl store in Chicago like it was yesterday. My mom, grandma, sister, and I made the trip together, and in my little-girl eyes, that place was nothing short of a dream. Towering displays, endless dolls, matching outfits, it was like stepping into a storybook. But what really stuck with me wasn’t the shopping. It was teatime. We sat down with our dolls for a dainty little tea service, complete with tiny sandwiches, sweet treats, and fancy pink lemonade. I felt so grown-up and so full of joy, like the whole day had been made just for us.

There’s something special about back-to-school shopping, especially when you’re a kid. For me, it wasn’t just about getting new clothes, it was about the whole experience. My mom, my sister, and I would head out to the stores together, browsing the racks for the perfect outfits to kick off the school year. It wasn’t just about the clothes themselves but the feeling of fresh starts and new possibilities. I remember the excitement building up as we picked out new jeans, shirts, and shoes. And of course, my mom’s go-to saying, “Out with the old, in with the new,” would ring in my ears, marking the moment we’d leave behind the old school year and step into the next one with a little more confidence and style.

One of the sayings my mom used to always say when I was younger was, “We can do it the easy way or the hard way.” I remember hearing it a lot when I was in trouble, especially when I refused to apologize. I was super stubborn as a kid, if I fought with my sister or took something I shouldn’t have, I knew I’d messed up, but I just couldn’t bring myself to say the words “I’m sorry.” My mom would try to get me to apologize, and I’d either mumble something half-hearted like, “Fine, I’m sorry,” or insist, “I already said that,” hoping it would be enough. But it never was.

One of the sayings my mom always comes back to is, “Hope for the best, prepare for the worst.” Growing up, I didn’t always appreciate it. I’d hear it and feel like she was expecting the worst-case scenario, as if she didn’t believe in the good things that could happen. At the same time, it felt like a warning to brace for disappointment, and honestly, I didn’t always understand why she was so cautious. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize how much truth there is in this simple phrase–and how much love and care it really holds.