After that meeting at Olive Garden on March 18th, I talked to Jack’s birth mother every single day. She would tell me about how he was really active at night. She would say, “I bet he has a lot of hair, because I have horrible heartburn!” She would update me on all of her doctor appointments. (And I would immediately Google everything she told me.)

What she gave me in those daily text messages was the second biggest gift she gave me. She knew that I would personally never experience those things. I will never know what it’s like to feel my little guy wiggling and kicking in my belly late at night. I will never sit in a doctor’s office and talk about due dates and inducing. So she gave me as much of that experience as she could.

So when people ask me if I was scared that she might change her mind, the answer? Not really. I mean sure, a tiny piece in the back of my mind would every once in a while whisper “what if,” but I trusted her, and I trusted in the Lord.

But if you’re keeping track, we had less than one month to prepare for our little dude. If we had the entire 9 months to prepare and sit with those emotions, I almost assuredly would have been more scared. But I simply didn’t have time to worry!

Jack was due on April 15th. The day before Easter. (God, I see you.)

On April 7th, I went to pick up my packet for the Rock the Parkway Half Marathon that I was running the next morning. I had to show my drivers license, and the volunteer said, “Did you know your ID is expired?” Say what?!

Y’all. I am the most Type A, hyper organized person, but this baby thing had apparently rocked my world. And to make matters worse, the ONE THING they drill into you while putting together your hospital plan is that you have to show your ID. (Kinda frowned upon to let a rando take home a baby.)

So here I was, on a Friday evening, baby due any day, no valid ID. Cool.

A quick Google search told me that the JOCO DMV did have Saturday hours, but they closed at 12:00. (Enter new motivation to run that race as fast as possible.)

I ran that morning, enjoying the beauty of our city, thinking about how the next race I run, my son would be waiting at the finish. It’s a moment I pictured in my head during so many races, and I had to choke back tears that entire run.

Crossed the finish line, jumped in my car, drove straight to the DMV, shockingly had no wait, took the most disgusting picture, got the license, and went home to wait.

On the morning of April 15th, at around 5:00 AM, I was running on our treadmill when my phone rang. Jack’s biological mother’s name on the screen. She said she was in labor and headed to the hospital. I ran upstairs, woke up Chad, took quick showers, and jumped in the car.

It is a five hour drive to Dodge City, where Jack was born, so this was one of the longest car rides of my life. My phone was going crazy, I was trying not to cry, I ate a ridiculous amount of candy.

We made it the whole way to Dodge City without our baby showing his face. But as we got closer to the hospital, she let me know that they were sending her home. Her status hadn’t changed, and she stopped having contractions, so they decided this wasn’t the day to deliver a baby.

So what do we do? Turn around and drive home? Wait it out? What if he doesn’t come for another week? We can’t live here for a week! We decided to grab some lunch and talk it over (also consulting with our adoption case worker). We ate some of the best Mexican food of my life and decided to spend the night and drive home the next morning. (Unless we had a baby.)

The next morning, Easter Sunday, we made the drive home. THAT was the longest drive of my life. I was just so sad and disappointed. I’d pictured us driving home with our baby boy, but instead we drove most of the way in silence.

We got home, did some laundry to restock the hospital bag, and got ready for the week ahead.

The next morning, 5:00 AM, same treadmill, phone rings, shower, haphazardly repack the bags, get in the car, head back to Dodge City. But this time, after only one hour of driving, I got a text message. A single picture of our baby boy. And all I could squeak out was “It’s Jack!”

I made Chad pull over so he could see the sweetest little face that I had ever seen. And then I told him to hurry!

When we got to the hospital, a nurse greeted us with a massive smile and a hug. She showed us to our room and said, “I’ll go get your son.” IS THIS ACTUALLY HAPPENING?!?!

There are moments in your life that you wish you could relive over and over. That you could bottle or box to revisit any time you want to feel that way again. When that cart came through the door and the nurse handed me our baby. Yea, I want that moment to play on a loop for as long as I live. Those precious moments where Chad, and Jack, and I cuddled on the tiny hospital room sofa. The feeling of my baby against my chest. Yea, gimme all that.

In the state of Kansas, a birth mother can sign her paperwork after 12 hours, so Jack’s birth mother was required to stay in the hospital for that time. She had elected not to see Jack, but she was open to seeing me. I left Chad alone with his new best friend, and went next door to talk to Jack’s birth mother.

I talked to her twice that day—once very shortly after we arrived at the hospital, and once to say goodbye. That was the last time I ever talked to her. You may notice that I don’t say her name or share her background, and I won’t. Her story is her story to tell, not mine. The thoughts and feelings that went into her decisions were hers and hers to share. Our close friends and family know the story, because they were there for all of it, but I don’t feel right sharing her story in a public place. But I will say two things:

1. I miss her. I talked to this person every day for a month, and she gave me the greatest gift I will ever receive. So yea, I unconditionally love her and miss her.

2. We talk about her every day. We pray for her (and Jack’s biological father), by name every night. Jack is still too little, but he will always know about them, their names, and his story.

After we said goodbye, I went back to our room and our new life began. We ate Chinese food, got zero sleep, had no idea what we were doing, and we were stupid in love.

We packed up the car the next morning with OUR BABY and drove home. Those first few days are such a dreamlike blur of smiles, and tears, and no sleep, and more love than we’ve ever known, felt, or received. And if you have children, you know those days well.

And that’s where I leave this part of our story. On any given day, I don’t even think about the fact that Jack is adopted. He’s just our son. He has my sense of humor, he weirdly looks like Chad, he mimics everything we do. He’s just ours.

Over the years, he will have questions. We will face challenges. This story will grow, expand, and become more nuanced. But it’s a story that I am so glad is ours.

XOXO,

Molly B.

For nearly our entire dating relationship, I begged Chad for a puppy.  It was one of those silly things that we joked about–what would we get? what would we name it? who would it love more?  So basically the same conversations you have about babies when you don’t want a Stage 5 status.  We knew that we wanted a smaller breed, and the name “Roxy” existed for a long time before there was an actual dog.

So when Chad proposed, it went down something like, “Will you marry me?”  “Yes!  So now can we get a dog?!”  Maybe not exactly, but almost.  And within a couple of weeks, we were at the Tulsa Humane Society looking at dogs.

With our non-traditional schedules at that time, it was the middle of a weekday, so we–quite literally–had our pick of the litter.  We looked through every cage, and obviously I tried to convince Chad that we needed every single one of them.  But one of the volunteers told us that they had just gotten a couple of puppies, and we just had to see them.  Um yea we did!

We walked around the corner to a side room, and there were two little puppies jumping all over one another.  Again, I was instantly thinking of how I could convince Chad that we needed both, but we were both drawn to this sweet little girl that kept jumping at our legs.  I knew instantly that this little brown puppy was ours.

Xena.  Her names was Xena.  Not quite a warrior princess, she was a 6-week-old dachshund-pug mix that had been dumped on the doorstep of the agency.  All she wanted to do was lick everything in sight, and all I wanted to do was cuddle her for the rest of my life.

And that was it.  We filled out the paperwork.  We paid the adoption fee.  And we walked out the doors and told our new puppy, “By the way, your name is Roxy.”

No relationship is perfect, and ours is no exception.  I love my husband very much, and we really are very happy.  But when you get engaged at 24, and try to plan a wedding with small incomes and conflicting schedules, there’s a lot of stress.  It may sounds extreme, but I feel like Roxy saved our engagement.  There were times that we both questioned if we were doing the right thing, but we both had thoughts like, “If we break up, who would get Roxy?”  I can laugh about it now, but those were real thoughts in those moments.  (Coincidentally, I also fell more in love with Chad watching his sweetness with our puppy.)

A lot of you know about our first year of marriage and how I spent most of that time in treatment for uterine cancer.  On the weekends, I was so sick from treatment.  All I did was lay on the couch and watch TV or curl up in our bed and sleep.  Roxy never left my side.  She followed me around our house, and when I would lay on my side, she would curl right into my belly.

She was our sidekick.  It was just accepted that if the Buchanans were in attendance, that included Roxy.  She was begging for turkey at Thanksgiving, hiding from fireworks on 4th of July, eating popcorn with my parents, watching movies at Boulevard Drive-In, watching the Royals at Bark in the Park, sunbathing on the McCoy’s patio.  Our parents referred to her as their grand dog.  She was always there.

Over the years, she had a lot of nicknames.  Peanut, Squirt, Ruffy, most recently Ra Ra from her beloved Jack Attack.  One of the most frequently used was Nurse Roxy.  She could always sense when something was wrong–when you were sad, or sick, or hurt–and she always knew how to respond with her love and attention.

When we found out that we would be adopting a baby and our house got turned upside down with cribs, and bouncers, and swings, and boxes, she was always there.  I worried that she would feel neglected when we had a baby or that she would not be very welcoming to anyone disrupting her spoiled only child situation.  But she insisted on waking Jack up every morning, running to him when he cried, and of course closely monitoring his meals.

Sometimes God gives you moments that are special to prepare your heart for sadness. We had a beautiful start to our Saturday.   Chad and I both ran the Rock the Parkway Half Marathon.  Chad’s first Half Marathon!  (And he didn’t hate me at the end!) After the race, we came home, got cleaned up, and we had Jack’s 2nd birthday party.  So much fun with so many people we love!  After the party,  we came home, and Chad and I collapsed on the couch.

My mom was in town for Jack’s party, and she was upstairs reading while we were relaxing.  A little before 5:00, my mom came downstairs and said she thought something might be wrong with Roxy.  She had thrown up on the rug and was acting lethargic.  We rushed upstairs, and our little puppy was laying on the rug in the living room, looking so sad.  We knelt down to pet her and try to determine what was wrong.  I thought maybe she had eaten something that upset her stomach.  (We try to keep an eye on Jack, but he’s sneaky and loves to feed his puppy.)  We tried to give her something for her stomach, and our girl that never turns down a treat, refused the offer.  I put her water bowl in front of her , and she drank a bunch of water and seemed to perk up.  When her little brother got up from his nap and sat in his highchair to eat dinner, she was wagging her tail right below his chair.  We had no reason not to assume everything was now fine, so we decided to head out on our free grandma babysitting date night.  But we agreed not to go too far away, just in case.

We were finished with our meal and sat chatting at our restaurant table when my phone rang.  My mom.  She said that Roxy was having seizures, so we jumped in the car and came home.  We loaded our little baby into the car and drove her to the pet emergency room.

Neither Chad nor I could have been prepared for what we would hear from that doctor.  We both assumed she had eaten something she wasn’t supposed to, which caused this reaction.  We never assumed that we would hear that our little Roxy, our first baby, had a brain tumor.

I know a lot of you have lost your sweet furry friends, so I will spare you the turmoil that ensued in that next 3 hours as we were forced to make the most impossible decisions about our Roxy.  And honestly, I can’t even write about it.  We love her so much, and all that mattered was her comfort and her happiness.  So we walked out of that building with empty arms.

I don’t know that I’ve ever cried this much.  Yes, we have experienced loss and heartache, but this is hitting harder than anything I’ve ever felt.  Grief is very strange.  There are moments where I’m smiling thinking about her sweet little face, or the look in her eye when she was about to take off running for you to chase her, or the time that she bit Chad’s nipple when he was laying in bed after a shower.  And in the very next second, I can’t even breathe through my tears.

Jack is too little to understand anything that has happened, but when he wanders around the living room with his little questioning arms outstretched saying “Ra Ra?” I feel like my throat is on fire.  He loves her so much, and I actually hope his memory is short.

There are routines that you don’t even realize you have until you don’t.  When I get out of the shower in the morning, immediately looking to the right into our bedroom to see if she’s laying on the bed.  She’s not.  Saying “Roxy, can you get in your house?” before walking out the door.  Habits are hard to break.

I know it will get easier, but right now I feel so broken. One of my good friends shared a story with me a few weeks ago about a dog that helped guide a man through the NYC Marathon with a note that said “we don’t deserve dogs.” How true that statement is. I haven’t done anything even half deserving of the love I got from my sweet Roxy. But I sure am glad that God chose me to be her mama for the last (almost) 13 years.

XOXO,

Molly B.

It’s what you want to know, right? Like what makes you so special? Nothing, really.

But I’ve done some stuff. Some really cool, some really mundane, some really sad, and some stuff in between. And I love to write.

I remember sitting in a college admissions office, having absolutely zero clue what to pick for a major. And he asked, “Well what do you like to do?” I didn’t think “party with my friends” was an acceptable answer (plus my mom was like right there!), so I said (truthfully), “I really like to write.” An English Writing major (later turned pre-Law) declared right there.

It’s no surprise that my grades in college were exponentially higher than those in high school, because I got to write. A lot. And I really enjoyed it. And I really flourished.

But then I graduated, and I became a Banker (that’s a really good story for another time). And man, I can craft a killer email, but the extent of my prose really ended there.

The past few years have been interesting, to say the very least. And words would rattle around in my head, but I didn’t know what to do with them.

When people hear about me having cancer, or about us adopting, or any of my ridiculous fitness endeavors, a common refrain is “I want to hear your story!” I’m very transparent, so I’m always happy to share my story, but I kept craving the avenue to write it!

As I have worked in a corporate environment for over 15 years, I have sat through countless meetings, seminars, and trainings that suggest having a mission statement. The focus was typically having one for your team, rarely on having one for yourself. Admittedly, it seemed like a broken record, and I just appeased the facilitator and moved on in the agenda. 

But a couple of years ago, I was listening to a podcast on the way to my office, and something must have struck a cord when she talked about having a personal mission statement. The host talked about having a mission statement in order to prioritize your life. When faced with decisions, you could ask yourself if it supports your mission. I liked it. 

So I spent the rest of my commute thinking about mine. 

What exactly is a mission statement? It is defined as a formal summary of the aims and values of a company, organization, or individual. 

So what exactly were my aims and values? I’m pretty sure something about cupcakes–although tempting–was not what she had in mind. I really gave it some thought and am pretty proud of where I landed. 

“Connecting people in an effort to make the world smaller and kinder.”

So I knew that I wanted to do more with this. Over the last couple of years, some friends kept saying, “When are you going to start a blog?” So when I finally wrote out this mission statement, it all kind of came together. Starting a blog was a way for me to write, to connect myself with others, and to connect others.

So what about you? What are your aims and values? What is your mission statement?

XOXO, 

Molly B. 

“We have a match!”  When you go through the paperwork, the prayers, the tears, nothing can prepare you for the feelings that come with those four words.  Excitement, and terror, and hesitation, and protection, and gratitude, and feelings I’m convinced do not have words.

Okay so now what?

A woman in a small town in Western Kansas did a simple Google search in the early morning hours of a day in late February: “adoption in Kansas.”  Lucky for us, our agency did all their due diligence to ensure they were the first name on the list, so she clicked.  She filled out the inquiry, and our agency called her the next day.  During that conversation, she told them her story, she told them her struggles, and she asked for their help.

Our agency sent her 10 adoption profiles to review and potentially make a choice of who would adopt the little boy she was carrying.  She and her baby’s father reviewed the profiles separately, and they met back to compare their choices.  They both, independently, chose Chad and me.  Man, I can’t even type that without crying.  Chad and I laugh all the time, because we are frequently told, “Oh Jack looks just like you!” by people who don’t know our story.  But if anything ever shows you how much he was made for us, it’s that story about how we were selected.

After telling us that we were matched, and telling us the backstory, our case worker asked, “So are you interested?”  Like is that a real question?  Is “duh” an acceptable response in this scenario?

Jack’s birth parents were eager to meet us, and we were eager to meet them.  We planned to meet that Saturday.  It was Thursday.

In order to coordinate, our case worker gave me Jack’s birth mother’s phone number.  Y’all.  Does a more awkward moment exist?  What do you even say?  “Oh hey, this is Molly.  Glad you like us.  Can I have your baby?”  I rehearsed it over and over, and I finally just dialed.  I got a voicemail, and was instantly relieved and disappointed all at once.  But she texted me back within about 5 minutes, explaining that she had been right in the middle of something when I called.

We texted back and forth, and it was easier than I thought.  She was kind, and open, and honest, and responsive.  Everything I could hope for in this situation.  She was eager to meet us, and although we offered to drive the 5ish hours to them, they wanted to meet halfway.

Unfortunately, they had a change in their schedule, so we had to postpone our meeting to the following Saturday, March 18th.  I was a little disappointed for the delay, but I remained positive.

Although we had not met in person, we still texted every day.  She told me how she was feeling, she told me about how active this little guy was in her tummy, she told me she was certain he had a lot of hair due to her constant heartburn (nailed that one), she talked to me like we were old friends.

We agreed to meet at an Olive Garden in Hutchinson, Kansas for dinner on March 18th.  It’s about a 3-hour drive from our house, so naturally we left like 5 hours early.  I mean, what else are you going to do when you’re nervous and anxious and can’t wait for what could be the biggest moment in your life?  I don’t think I’ve analyzed an outfit choice so much in my life.  I remember saying, “Chad, does this make me look like a good mom?”  Side note, I also asked many people what would be an acceptable number of breadsticks to eat without causing major concerns.  (I’m a mess.)

We rolled into Hutch (as the locals call it) way too early, so we drove around town.  Welp, that didn’t take long, so we found the local Walmart and walked around for a while.  After we had wasted all the extra time we could, we decided to just get there early.  And I guess they were just as excited/anxious/nervous, because when we walked in the doors almost 30 minutes early, Jack’s birth mother and father were sitting on a bench in the lobby.

As soon as we sat down in our booth, Jack’s birth mother handed me a small, colorful, polka dot photo album.  I opened it up, and it was all of her ultrasound pictures.  Full disclosure, I have never in life been able to see anything on these.  When people show me, I usually just nod and smile and add an occasional, “oh yea!” but I really have no clue.  I flipped through it, lingering a little, mainly just appreciating what I was holding.  I have never had my own ultrasound pictures.  And although I undoubtedly wouldn’t have been able to see anything on my own either, it’s one of those things that you long to have when you want to be a mom.  I set the album on the table between us, and it stayed there throughout our meal.

We spent the next two hours telling our stories, getting to know each other, laughing, and sharing our thoughts.  And every time they spoke, they spoke in the present and assumptive tense.  I was trying not to get my hopes up, but they spoke like the decision had been made.  We agreed that the next steps were for each of us to check in with our case worker the following day and let her know how we would like to proceed.  And as we got up to leave, I picked up the photo album and handed it to her, and she said, “Oh no, that’s yours.”  What an incredibly generous human.

Chad and I got in the car, and I immediately started to cry in surrender of all of my built up emotions.  We got on the road home, and I looked at those ultrasound pictures (still no clue what I was actually seeing), returned the 800 text messages on our phones, and ate my weight in breadsticks that I’d been too nervous to eat at dinner.

I did check in with our case worker that evening to let her know how it went, but we were still required to wait until the following day to make a decision.  That statement usually takes people by surprise, the fact that it was also OUR decision, not just the birth parents.  No matter your adoption story, it will be your story and your child’s story for the rest of your and their life.  Every party has to agree that this is a relationship that you want in your life and a story you are ready to live and tell.

But as early as we could that Sunday morning, we confirmed that we wanted to move forward.  Our case worker contacted Jack’s birth parents, and they confirmed that they were on board too.  So it was official, we had a mutually agreed upon match for a little baby boy that was due on April 15th.  Yea, you got that right, LESS.THAN.ONE.MONTH.  But what you probably don’t know…we had nothing.  No crib, no clothes, no childcare, no nothin.

You know what I learned in that next couple of weeks?  There are some really incredible people in this world, and apparently we know all of them.  (Ah man, I’m crying again…)

You can find out you’re having a baby on a Sunday, and your best friend will be at your house on Monday night helping you make a registry with all the things you ACTUALLY need for your baby.  That same best friend will work with the rest of your local girlfriends to plan and execute a beautiful and perfect baby shower where you get more than you could ever need.  Your mom and mother-in-law will throw you a baby shower in your hometown with all your friends and family that puts your wedding shower to shame.  And beyond that, we were loved daily through text messages, emails, phone calls, prayers, and anything and everything people could throw on us.  It helped make the long wait feel shorter and so much sweeter.

The things that a lot of people take for granted are the things I prayed for years.  Watching my husband put together a crib is forever etched in my mind as one of my favorite visions of him.  Folding baby clothes and rolling up those tiny little socks was a labor of love.  (I remind myself now…)  A friend bought me a t-shirt that said “mama” on it, and I don’t think she knew just how much and how long I had longed for that.

And I talked with Jack’s birth mother every day, all day long.  We texted, usually about the pregnancy, but not always.  We truly became friends, and I cared about her and her day.  She was giving me the biggest gift I could ever receive, and because of that, I instantly loved her and cared for her as if I’d known her my whole life.  And staying in contact with her helped make the wait feel shorter too.  Since I was able to talk to her and hear how she was feeling and what he was doing late at night while she was trying to sleep was so helpful and made me feel as connected as I could to this baby that would hopefully be keeping us up at night soon enough.  I am forever grateful that she wanted to share these things with me and that she stayed in contact with me.

Jack will celebrate his 2nd Birthday on April 17th, so now you know that he didn’t show his face on the 15th as planned.  There’s more story to tell about that, but tonight, for the second year in a row, we celebrate March 18th with dinner at Olive Garden (in Olathe, not Hutch, y’all).  The day that two people met us and still decided to give us the gift of our favorite little guy, who will undoubtedly eat me under the table in breadsticks.

XOXO,

Molly B.

 

If you ever find yourself crying in the middle of the cosmetics section at Target, you may need to re-examine your life. Because if you can’t be happy in the happiest place on earth (forget Disney), there is definitely something wrong. But one day in 2015, that’s exactly where I found myself.

Chad and I have always wanted children, but we were not in any rush. We agreed that we wanted some time together before welcoming someone else to join the party. I remember when we were dating, talking about names, who they would look like, boys vs. girls, even a shared interest in adopting after we had our own child.

Our first year of marriage was really hard. Five months into our matrimony, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer and spent the next eight months in chemotherapy treatment chairs. (This isn’t the story I want to write today, but I promise I will. I just need to provide context.) So when I got better, we wanted that time back, together, so we delayed having a child.

On our five-year anniversary, we decided to go for it. I stopped taking birth control, and we assumed that I would be pregnant within days. But I wasn’t.

And honestly, I didn’t think anything of it at first. I had just run my 4th full marathon, so I thought that could have affected things. So I backed off of running, but it didn’t work.

The weeks passed, then months, and the next thing I knew, it has been a year. I tried all sorts of supplements and weird foods that I read could help fertility. (Do you know how hard it is to find papaya juice?!) But of course nothing worked.

We decided it might not be a bad idea to seek medical intervention, just to make sure everything looked okay. The next year was pills, shots, tests on me, tests on him. It was awkward, it was uncomfortable, it was confusing, it was sad, it was maddening, it was anything but romantic, it was fruitless.

Our fertility specialist was wonderful. She was kind and empathetic, and she was committed. She had prescribed some sort of pill that I was to take a specific time each day, without fail, or it would not work.

Enter that trip to Target, and upon arrival, my prescription wasn’t ready, which meant I would miss my window, and I lost it. I was crying so hard that I could barely breathe. I called Chad, and while staring at the cotton balls, I said, “I can’t do this anymore.”

The doctor had already advised us that IVF was our next step in conception. We agreed that this was not our path.

Look, I admire every single woman who has done IVF. It takes an incredible strength, physically, mentally, and emotionally. But after a year of my life in chemotherapy and oncology, I had zero desire to go through that process.

So that’s when we decided. The idea that we had tossed around while cuddling, or eating ice cream, or drinking beers. We were going to adopt.

In January of 2016, I called an agency in Kansas City that was recommended to us. I made an appointment, and Chad and I went for a meeting. We walked out more sure than before. This is what we were called to do.

Nine months of paperwork, background checks, and writing checks. Lots of checks. But in October of 2016, we were live on their website and were approved to meet with birth parents.

You might think that is a relief. That you feel a sense of peace, or of hope. But I felt more helpless than ever. You have absolutely zero control over the process after you’re approved. You just have to wait.

People are so kind. They don’t know what to say, but they want to say something to let you know they care. Every day, “Have you heard anything?” So kind. But every time it was like a punch in the stomach.

That’s the part of infertility that I don’t really discuss. The sadness, the anger, the resentment, the jealousy. I vividly remember sitting in the back row at church on Mother’s Day one year, crying through the worship songs, because I was so envious of the happiness around me. Crying out to God to make me a mom too. There are songs that I listened to during that time that, even now, leave me breathless when I think of those emotions. Every time a friend called to tell me she’s pregnant, and I could hear the hesitation in her voice, almost like she’s apologizing for having a baby when I can’t. It’s a lot of feelings that I’m not exactly proud of, but I’m being honest.

So in March of 2017, when we still hadn’t gotten any interest, I wanted to give up. Chad and I sat on a beach in Naples, Florida, on a work trip, and I said, with teary eyes, “I don’t think I can do this anymore.” I’d had a couple of frozen drinks, so Chad just hugged me and said we could talk about it when we got home. (Smart dude.)

We flew home the next day: March 9, 2017. We landed in the early afternoon, drove home, unpacked, and reconvened on the couch to relax. Just as I sat down, my phone rang. Our adoption case worker’s name popped up on the screen. “Molly, we have a match.”

God heard me that night on the beach. He heard my helpless call. He had heard it many times before. And He answered, reminding me that this was exactly what we were called to do. Chad and I were meant to adopt, and this match was meant for us.

I’ll tell more of the story over the next few weeks, but that call was THE call. The call that brought us our sweet baby Jack. The call that changed our entire lives.

XOXO,

Molly B.

When Chad and I made the move to Kansas City over eight years ago, we made it our personal mission to eat our way through this city. That first year was full of breweries and BBQ crawls, and everything in between. But that kind of livin takes its toll on your bank account, so we backed off of eating out every night and transitioned to weekly date nights. Enter a baby a few years later, and those weekly date nights are not as frequent. But our alone time, and our love for food, are still of high priority, so enter the Progressive Date Night.

We tried out this concept a couple of years ago with a date night on the Plaza, and it has now become our favorite way to try multiple spots in one day without spending too much extra time or money. The formula is simple:

Stop 1: Cocktails and Appetizer

Stop 2: Dinner

Stop 3: Dessert and/or Cocktails

Last night, we finally had our Valentine’s Date Night, and we decided to do it progressive style. So here’s a real example of how this plays out.

We selected the Plaza area for this round. We started our night at Black Dirt for cocktails and an appetizer.

We scored a seat at the bar, which is the way to go, because you don’t have to worry about a reservation or hogging a table on a busy Saturday night. Lucky us, we unknowingly sat next to one of the chefs who had just ended his shift, so he gave us all the recommendations. I started with the Rose on Blonde, and we ordered their hummus plate.

Both choices were delicious, but our new friend said that the Training Day cocktail was the best on the menu, so obviously I had to try it.

The atmosphere and service were exceptional, and we can’t wait to go back for dinner!

Next it was time for dinner at Parker at the Fontaine.

This has been on our list for a while, with its reputation for delicious eats and breathtaking views of the Plaza. It absolutely did not disappoint. We had arguably the best table in the entire restaurant, with a panoramic view of the city below. The place is beautiful and cozy, setting the stage for all the romance.

Not only is this place stunning, the food was delicious. We were greeted with their complementary cornbread, which is the perfect nod to our Oklahoma roots. Chad and I shared a Sprouted Grains Salad to start. For our entrees, he got the Bolognese, and I got the Louisiana Meat(less) Pie. And of course we had to get a side of their Brussels. Everything was wonderful, and it was torture to skip their mouthwatering dessert menu.

But it was off to our third and final stop: André’s. This was our choice for dessert and after dinner drinks.

Honestly, I could have spent my entire evening here and would have been a happy girl. We told the server that this was our first visit, and he told us about every single dessert in the case. It was such a tough decision for this sweets lover, but I got a Chocolate Budino, and Chad got a Chocolate Rum Ball. Y’all. I can’t even deal with how good these were. Like I’m trying to figure out how soon and often I can get back to try more things.

If you’re keeping track, you know we were full and exhausted, so it was time to head home.

But there you have it, three different restaurants in one night for the same timing and cost as if you would have done all of these courses in one place.

The Plaza is a perfect spot for a progressive date, because everything is walkable. But this is only one example! We have done this several times, in other parts of the city.

For example…The Streetcar Route.

Drinks and an app at Tom’s Town, rode the streetcar to Farmhouse for dinner, rode the streetcar back to Tannin for drinks and the best chocolate chip cookie dessert in the city.

Or Town Center Crossing in Leawood.

Drinks and tapas at La Bodega, Dinner at North, and gelato at Paciugo.

Or you can pick a theme! The year that Jack was born, we weren’t able to take our anniversary trip to NYC, so we planned a New York-themed progressive date.

Breakfast bagels at Meshuggah, a lunch slice at Johnny Jo’s, beers at John’s Big Deck, Manhattans at our boutique hotel’s bar, dinner at Cupini’s, and cannolis at Anthony’s.

Westport, Crossroads, Zona Rosa…so many options! And this also works great for a Girls Night!

Now that you have the formula, try it out for your next night out!

XOXO,

Molly B.

PS–Check out this Summer Date Night article that I did for Travel Host Kansas City!

The past couple of years, Chad and I have taken short vacations for our birthdays. It’s such a fun excuse to get away and spend some time together, being silly and enjoying one another. This year, when I asked Chad what he wanted to do, he said he wanted to go to a sporting event of some sort. Last year, we went to Oklahoma City and went to a Thunder game, so this response didn’t surprise me. But the brainstorm was on!

Where could we go that maybe Chad had never been, would enjoy multiple things, and we could catch some sports? I quickly landed on Nashville. I have been several times, primarily for work. And Chad and I actually went together a few years ago when I ran the Nashville Marathon. But following me around a city while I only eat boring food, run for 4 hours in the rain, and don’t feel like doing much for the majority of the visit is not really a vacation for him. So I decided to take him back with only him in mind.

We flew out on a Friday and got there in the early afternoon. We got to our hotel and decided to find a spot where we could grab some local beers before dinner that evening. We discovered an unassuming hole in the wall called Homegrown. They have a fantastic beer selection, most of which was local. We relaxed for a couple of hours, laughing, and talking in non-toddler tones of voice.

We realized that time had flown by so we needed to hustle back to our hotel to get ready for Chad’s birthday dinner reservation.

In researching the trip, I knew that I had to find a fabulous steakhouse for Chad’s birthday dinner. This is typically his only request, so I had to make it happen. I was able to find Kayne Prime, which had a lot of recommendations and a menu that I personally could not wait to try.

We had such a fantastic experience. The food was exceptional! We were greeted with an amuse bouch crostini. From there, we ordered the Shishito Peppers appetizer. Always the perfect combination of sweet and heat! Next, we each selected a Farro Salad as our starter. Oh my! I am still having dreams about this salad, but it was massive and so very filling! We decided that it would have been best to share, because we were stuffed before our entrees arrived. But of course we had to power through! For our entrees, Chad selected a beautiful ribeye, and I selected a trio of side dishes: Brussels Sprouts, Sweet Potatoes, and Mac & Cheese. We were only able to stomach a couple of bites, because we were so full, but those bites were incredible. All of the flavors were spot on, and the presentation was exceptional. Our server was devoted to Chad having a memorable dinner, so knowing that we couldn’t fathom dessert, he brought their famous Chocolate Chip Cookies in a to go box, and a wishing candle on a plate. The birthday boy was happy and exhausted. We decided to go back to our hotel and call it a night.

The next morning, I let Chad sleep in, and I visited my 49th Orangetheory studio in East Nashville. It was an intense Power Day, and I could quickly feel the effects of the day before. It was a great visit, and I was ready to start our day.

Chad got some breakfast at the hotel while I was out, so he was satisfied until lunch. We got cleaned up and decided to make our way to The Pharmacy for some local burgers and beers.

Pharmacy is such a fun and funky little spot in East Nashville. I ate there after the Nashville Marathon, and it was easily the best burger of my life. (Mainly because I’d just run 26.2 miles, but also because it was delicious.) Everything was just as good as I remember! Chad got their Cheeseburger, and I got their Black Bean Burger. We shared some tots and sweet potato fries, and of course some of their homemade beer cheese for dipping.

After lunch, we decided to explore more of East Nashville. This area is really growing, and it’s quite the hipster hotspot.

While we walked, we happened upon a local bakery, Nashville Sweets, that specializes in cupcakes. That was an obvious choice.

The shop itself is absolutely adorable! Cute touches everywhere, and the dessert case is stunning. We were thrilled that each of our favorite flavors were present and accounted for: Lemon for him, Chocolate Peanut Butter for her. Not just a pretty face, these were perfect. The cake, the filling, the frosting, spot on. I really wanted to try everything else, but we decided to move on.

Next, we found a local brewery called Smith & Lentz Brewing Company. We decided to sit for a while and relax with a beer. We were thrilled with the IPA (him) and Amber (me) offerings, and it felt good to sit and be lazy with one another.

We wanted to check out some spots across town, so we grabbed an Uber and headed over to an area close to downtown.

First up, we had to visit Uncommon James. I know, I know, this trip was for Chad. But in all my trips to Nashville, I’ve never been, and he humored me for a few minutes.

I scooped up a cute gold bar necklace and a gift for a friend. With no Kristen Cavallari or Jay Cutler sitings, we were out.

We walked around corner to the local Yazoo Brewery.

This is one of the larger craft breweries in Nashville, so Chad was pumped to check it out. The weather was gorgeous, so we were able to enjoy our beers on the patio.

We quickly decided that we were growing pretty tired, so we got an Uber back to our hotel for some rest.

Saturday night was the main event: that requested sporting event. Nashville has a few options, but I landed on the Nashville Predators. Chad had never been to a professional hockey game, so that seemed like a great excuse. He was thrilled with this selection.

After some rest, we made our way downtown to walk around and grab some dinner before the game.

We found a local restaurant right on Broadway called The Stillery. The menu looked really good, and their pizza offerings were pretty unique.

Great choice for a pre-game dinner and drink. The servers were friendly with adorable accents. The menu had a lot of diversity. And they were quick and efficient, ensuring we were out the door on time.

I started with a beautiful Strawberry Gorgonzola Salad that had all the colors and all the flavors. Next, when I saw it on the menu, it was an easy choice: Brussels Sprout Pizza. Oh my! Y’all, so good. Currently planning how to recreate this in my own kitchen. Chad got a Philly Cheesesteak Pizza and said it was equally as impressive.

We walked over to the Bridgestone Arena, because it was almost game time!

We found our seats and settled in. That arena and its fans are incredible! There was so much energy, and this place was alive.

Of course we also had to explore the arena and grab some snacks. The Frozé was a fun (and bougie) choice, and of course we had to get some popcorn.

After the game, we were exhausted, so we went back to the hotel to crash.

After sleeping in, we ventured out for some breakfast to start our last day in Nashville. We picked out Pfunky Griddle, which has been on my list for years. The concept is fun, yet simple. You customize your own pancake batter, and then you cook it at the built-in griddle on your tabletop. We each selected our own concoctions, and we added some hash browns. It’s a neat concept, and the food was delicious, but we agreed that we would rather have our food cooked for us on vacation.

On our way into town, Chad saw a billboard for a Dukes of Hazard museum, so that was basically all he talked about. Naturally, we had to check it out. Um wow. Probably one of the oddest places I’ve ever been, but we had a blast laughing and taking pictures. Plus Chad loved every second of it.

We were within walking distance of Grand Old Opry and some shopping, so we walked over and did a little bit of exploring before flying home.

We got home on a Sunday night, and it was the perfect amount of time for our trip. We had so much fun exploring, being silly, and just spending time together. Chad is the hardest worker I know, and he rarely does anything for himself. Plus, he holds everything together at home when I’m on the road. It was a perfect celebration of my favorite guy, and he’s already talking about going back.

XOXO,

Molly B.

I met my husband, Chad, when I was 19 years old. Chad is one of three boys, and I’ve known his brothers just as long as I’ve known him. Which means I’ve known Julie just as long.

When I met Chad, his older brother, Clint was dating a girl named Julie. This radiant, elegant, vibrant girl named Julie.

Over those first few years, we all kind of grew up around one another. Holidays (and man, that chick could cook), late nights, float trips, karaoke, just being young, and dumb, and in love with our respective Buchanan brothers.

When Chad and I got married in 2007, Clint and Julie were on a break. I missed my friend, but my gut told me that this wasn’t a permanent thing. The night of our wedding, Clint drove us home, and I remember him saying, “I really miss Julie. She would have wanted to be here.” By the time we got back from our honeymoon, they were back together.

Six months into our marriage, I was diagnosed with uterine cancer. That’s a story for another time, but it’s part of this story. Because shortly after my diagnosis, Julie was diagnosed with breast cancer. A bond that I would never care to share with anyone. A bond that two brothers, while growing up, never thought they would share either. How could they? When you’re playing Dukes of Hazard in the backyard or fighting over the Nintendo controller, you never once think you’ll be helping the woman you love pick out a wig to cover her chemo-baldened head.

But here we were. Two girls comparing stories of PICCs, ports, nausea, wigs, and weird side effects. And two guys trying to maintain some sense of normalcy.

And then I got better. (Again, a story for another time.) It’s a weird sensation when you feel the most relief you’ve ever felt in your whole life, but you simultaneously feel an immense dread, because someone you love so dearly is still in the thick of it.

But then Julie got better too! And I think I was happier in those moments than I was in my own.

The next couple of years…Clint and Julie got engaged, we had a too much fun bachelorette party in OKC, they got married in Mexico, we celebrated so much.

We walked in the Tulsa Susan G. Known Race for the Cure, and Julie talked about how she couldn’t wait to run it the following year. We both loved running, and we committed to running a Half Marathon together one day.

But the celebration didn’t last. Julie’s cancer came back. Strong. And before I could breathe, she was gone. Those moments in the hospital are vivid and blurry all at once. We lost our sweet Julie on February 9, 2012.

Two days after Julie passed away. Chad and I flew to Austin, and I ran the Austin Marathon. At the time, it was the Livestrong Marathon, so the meaning was more powerful than ever. Julie told me so many times during my training that she was proud of me, and every time, I told her, “Can’t wait to do it together!” She ran every step of that race with me.

Survivor guilt is a real thing. Every time I hear of someone losing their own battle, my instant feeling is guilt. I love my life, and God has reminded me many times over the years that He has big purpose for it, but my heart has a hard time digesting the loss of another.

Every year, this day is filled with thoughts and feelings of why her and not me. I miss my friend, my sister, so much that I can’t get through this without many tear-wiping breaks. My throat is burning as I type, fighting back the urge to fall apart.

I didn’t want this year to be so hard. Julie remains the most positive person I’ve ever known. She didn’t just carry me through that Marathon seven years ago, she’s run with me almost every step since. I talk to her when it’s hard, when it’s beautiful, when I just want to talk.

So today, we ran that race we always promised. Seems fitting that we ran the Sweetheart Run, because cliche as it may seem, she did have such a sweet heart. It was cold and icy, but she ran with me the whole way, pushing me to be positive and to enjoy the moment.

Thank you, Julie. I love you so much, and I miss you every day.

XOXO,

Molly B.

PS–You crushed it!

My job is 75% travel. Most of the time, I’m whisked away to glamorous places like Owensboro, Kentucky, or Little Rock, Arkansas, or even Bismarck, North Dakota. But occasionally I am forced to go somewhere like Southern California in January. Ugh…I guess…

But seriously, I love my job and the people I get to work with everyday. Each year, we start with a team offsite to set our goals and intentions for the upcoming year. It is seriously the best way to start a new chapter. And why not meet somewhere beautiful like Orange County?!

When I heard that we would be staying and meeting at the Kimpton Shorebreak Huntington Beach Resort, I was elated! When I travel, I am a Marriott ride or die. But give me a Kimpton property all day, ery day!

As soon as I walked in, I was reminded why I love Kimpton properties. They have such attention to every last detail and ensure that every touch is positive and lasting. Check out this lobby and the gorgeous sunflowers (my absolute fave!) that greeted me at check in! They even have a special check in experience for their puppy guests! (Don’t tell Roxy!)

After checking in, I went to check out my room, because I know that Kimpton knows how to decorate a guest room. And I was not disappointed! It’s like they were inside my head with all my favorite colors and textures, and the shower of my dreams. And right outside my room, my balcony overlooked the indoor rock climbing gym! (You done real good here, Kimpton.)

After dropping my bags, I walked over a couple of blocks to meet some people that had already arrived. We had a little bit of time to kill before the rest of our crew landed, so we walked around Downtown Huntington Beach. So many cute restaurants and shops, and they still had up their big Christmas tree!

After we had the whole gang together, we walked over to the beach to walk along the Huntington Beach pier. The views were breathtaking! Every day should include a view that requires absolutely no filter.

We walked along, taking pictures, checking out the shops, and even discovered a Zoltar machine. (I was like 65% nervous I would wake up a 12-year-old boy, but crisis averted.)

We had an early start time the next morning, so we decided to walk back to the resort, grab dinner in their restaurant, and call it a night.

While waiting for a table large enough for our group, we took advantage of the nightly happy hour, while sitting by the outdoor fire pits.

The restaurant inside the Kimpton, the Pacific Hideaway, is stunning! Everything is beachy and boho. But the real masterpiece is the wall-to-wall mural that has all the Frida Kahlo vibes.

The menu is a mix of Asian and Latin inspired dishes, and it was tough to narrow down a choice. I landed on the Grilled Cali Tacos: Grilled cauliflower, quinoa, squash, hummus, cucumber, quinoa, and red pepper. And of course I couldn’t pass up an order of their Brussels & Jerky. Yum! Yum! Yum!

But the real MVP at Pacific Hideaway is a hidden gem on their bar menu: the $3 Paper Bag Beer. Here’s the scoop…for $3, you get a rando beer (selected by the bartender), served in a brown paper bag. So obviously every single one of us had to partake to see what hoppy adventures lay before us. From Bud Heavy to the most obscure craft IPA, we had so much fun peeling back the wrappers, comparing beverages, and laughing a lot.

After our delicious dinner and high class cocktails, it was FaceTime and bedtime.

The next morning started with a 5:00 AM sweat sesh at my 44th Orangetheory Studio: Huntington Beach–Brookhurst. Every time I travel, I try to get in a workout at my favorite gym, so I’m always happy when there’s one close by. One of my work besties is also a member, so it’s even better when we travel together and can get in a workout as a duo.

After class, we got cleaned up for our meetings. It doesn’t take me long to get ready, so I had some time to kill. I took advantage and walked a block over to Nekter Juice Bar for a smoothie and some fresh juice. I absolutely LOVE Nekter and try to go anytime I’m in one of their cities. (I have it on good authority that one is coming to Overland Park!)

I grabbed a Green Apple and Health Nut and took a gorgeous walk back to the resort.

The morning was packed, so we decided to take a walk down to Huntington Beach Beer Co. for lunch. We were able to score a table on their rooftop, which looked out onto the beach. I got a killer veggie burger with all the avocado and a hefty side of sweet potato fries.

(Sadly no beer since we were working. But a friend went back later in the week and said their brews were on point.)

The afternoon was another full session, so it was a fun little surprise to see a Fiesta Bar delivered by the Kimpton team to our meeting room later in the day, complete with chips, salsa, guac, and churros. Churros, y’all!

We finally called it a day around 6:00 so we could make our dinner reservation at BLK in Huntington Beach. It was within walking distance of the resort, and on our way, we discovered that HB has a weekly outdoor festival every Tuesday night with live music and local vendors.

Dinner was exceptional! We each got entrees, but we also ordered a large selection of their side dishes to share. I decided on the Grilled Vegetables on Polenta as my entree, but I sampled the Risotto, the Grilled Asparagus, the Margherita Flatbread, the Lobster Mac & Cheese, and of course, the Brussels.

After dinner, we rolled ourselves back to our resort and called it a night for our full bellies.

The next morning was a trip to Orangetheory Studio #45: Huntington Beach–Bella Terra. Killer burn with my girl and then back to clean up.

This morning meeting started with a beautiful breakfast on the Pacific Hideaway terrace. The Kimpton team spared no detail with this setup.

It was such a fabulous start to what would be another full day. And this Chia Pudding was something out of my food dreams.

We had another productive day, and fortunately we were able to use the Kimpton outdoor seating for some of our time. I never pass up an opportunity to work outdoors!

We decided that our last day called for lunch by the ocean, so we walked over to Sandy’s Beach Shack, which is right below the Huntington Beach Pier and has a perfect view of the water and the sand volleyball players. I don’t eat a lot of meat these days, but when you can actually see the water from your dining table, Mahi Mahi Tacos it is. And oh so glad I did…

We walked back over to finish our meetings and walked away with so many ideas, actions, and projects for the year.

We wrapped up our time together with a dinner at Ola in Huntington Beach. This was some truly delicious Mexican food! I chose the Veggie Tacos: Asparagus, shitake mushrooms, corn, and avocado, served with a guajillo pepper sauce on a blue corn tortilla. Y’all. Amaze. Oh and of course I ate my weight in their chips and salsa. (I’m like 90% sure their chips are dusted with crack. Something magical was happening there…)

After three full days of meeting and eating, we still weren’t sick of one another (or food), so we walked back over to the resort for some more.

Another fun thing that this Kimpton offers for their guests are s’mores kits that you can take out to their fire pits. Graham Crackers, marshmallows, chocolate, sticks, and blankets.

We roasted marshmallows, assembled our treats, and ate and laughed until we were sick.

Our group lives and works all over the country, so we don’t get an opportunity to see one another very often. So when we do, we work real hard. But we love and laugh real hard too.

After my fair share of sweetness, I made my way to my room and fell into a chocolate coma.

The next morning started at Orangetheory Studio #46: Corona Del Mar. Okay, full disclosure. There were no less than 3 other studios that were closer to our resort that could have made the #46 spot. However, after an embarrassingly deep dive on Instagram (I’ll spare you the details…), I discovered that this is the studio frequented by several of the ladies from RHOC. I could NOT pass up the chance to go All Out next to Heather Dubrow, so here we are. Sadly, no housewife burn ensued, but I still got a killer workout before my flight home.

I got cleaned up and packed my bags, “ready” to leave the sunshine for the cold of KC. (Okay really I missed my dudes, so I was willing to sacrifice.)

When I got off the elevator in the lobby, I saw one last Kimpton touch: the Hot Chocolate Bar. I mean…What a perfect ending to my time in California and at this exceptional property. They truly think of everything in creating an exceptional experience for their guests.

So I made myself a delicious custom concoction, checked out, and took a VERY chatty Uber ride to the airport.

I can count on one hand how many times I’ve seen the sun since I’ve been back in Kansas City. So when the days are cold, dark, and icy, I close my eyes, and I imagine that I’m back on that pier, eating s’mores. And guac. And tacos. And churros. And…

XOXO,

Molly B.

I can’t even remember a time when I didn’t drink a ton of water everyday. I hear people talk about struggling to drink water. I see countless articles about how to drink more water. I have friends ask me all the time how to drink more water. I really had to think about it, but here are my 5 Tips to Drink More Water:

1. Add Some Flavor!

I LOVE flavored water! You can go the natural route by adding lemon, cucumber, strawberries, or oranges. However, I ain’t got time for that, so I buy flavored water in bulk. My favorite is Flavor Ice, which you can buy for $1 each at pretty much any grocery store, including Target and Walmart. Pineapple Coconut is my jam.

2. Use Your Phone.

Set an alarm. Download a tracking app. Technology is your friend.

3. Drink a Glass Every Hour.

If you’re not good about sipping throughout the day, drink a glass every hour on the hour.

4. Use a Marked Water Bottle.

A bottle that’s marked with ounces or even hours can help you reach your personal water goal each day.

5. Keep a Gallon Jug with You.

This is my personal favorite and how I personally drink so much water. I purchased this Gallon Water Bottle for $13 on Amazon, and I keep it with me all day. My goal is to finish it by 5:00, and that’s usually no problem.

What tips would you add?

XOXO,

Molly B.