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Little Miss Momma

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Creamed Eggs over Toast Recipe: Holy Cow

November 23, 2011

So we’re here. In Wyoming. Cheyenne to be exact.
Last time we were here it snowed. I don’t get around snow too often, so it was a bit like Disneyland.

This will be our first Thanksgiving in Chey-town–Lil W’s first Turkey day with a house full of cousins.
And while I always tease Ben about his small-town upbringing, and about how you can actually look out the window to see cows grazing while shopping at the mall, and how we can’t go anywhere without people recognizing THE Ben Stock–there is also a huge part of me that finds comfort in this lifestyle.  Comfort in the pace, comfort in the cozy fireplaces, comfort in the small-town feel, and especially…comfort in the food.

Ben’s Mom, Jan, is basically the original Pioneer Woman, just minus the blog and ranch.  I manage to gain at least 3-5 pounds on every visit, and I always leave saying “next time, you need to teach me how to make that”.  Well this visit, I am determined to learn.  So Jan and I sat down late last night to make a list of all Ben’s favorite meals. It’s time I learn to cook for my man.

First on the list, and one of my personal favorites, Creamed Eggs on Toast.
And I’m not joking when I tell you that this is the yummiest and most simple breakfast recipe of all times.

 
Ingredients:
Serves 6-8 depending on how hungry everyone is.
10-12 eggs
3/4 cup of flour
1/3 cup butter
6 cups milk
loaf of French bread
salt and pepper to taste

Did you know there’s a secet to boiling eggs? I didn’t either. But I learned today.
Put the eggs in the pot and fill the pot with water until the eggs are covered.

Cover the pot. Bring the water to a rolling boil. As soon as the water is boiling, turn of the heat completely and set a timer for 10 minutes.  As soon as the timer goes off, the eggs will be perfectly hard boiled and ready to peel. While the eggs are cooking, get started on the next step.

1. In a large saucepan, melt the butter completely on medium-high heat.
2.  Once the butter is melted, add the flour.
3. Stir until the butter and flour are completely combined and there are no signs of the white flour. This will take about 2-3 minutes.
4. It should have a dough like consistency
5. Pour in the milk.
6. Turn heat to medium and watch so that it doesn’t burn. Wait for the milk to bubble and then whisk until all the lumps are gone and it has taken on a thick consistency. This will take approximately 5-7 minutes.

Add salt–we used about a teaspoon.


Add pepper to taste. Let simmer on low while you get the bread ready.

Cut slices of French bread about 3/4 inch thick.

Toast all the bread slices and then butter afterwards.

The eggs should be ready by now.
Dump out the hot water and pour cold water over them so that they are cool enough to peel.

Peel the eggs.


Slice each egg into small chunks and add to the yummy gravy.


Stir it lightly until combined.
Now the way we do it around these parts, is we take the bread and we pour the gravy over the top and then we dive in.  There is always a fight over the last slice of bread–always.

When you see Lil W taking these jumbo bites, you KNOW this is a legit recipe.

Here are our other two mini breakfast buddies. Sadie Jayne and baby Kellen.

They weren’t as excited about the creamed eggs, but when they grow up they will be–trust me.
Stay tuned, I have so much more to learn this week.

4.8 from 4 reviews
Creamed Eggs over Toast Recipe
 
Print
Author: Ashley Stock
Ingredients
  • 10-12 eggs
  • ¾ cup of flour
  • ⅓ cup butter
  • 6 cups milk
  • loaf of French bread
  • salt and pepper to taste
Instructions
  1. Put the eggs in the pot and fill the pot with water until the eggs are covered.
  2. Cover the pot. Bring the water to a rolling boil. As soon as the water is boiling, turn of the heat completely and set a timer for 10 minutes. As soon as the timer goes off, the eggs will be perfectly hard boiled and ready to peel. While the eggs are cooking, get started on the next step.
  3. In a large saucepan, melt the butter completely on medium-high heat.
  4. Once the butter is melted, add the flour.
  5. Stir until the butter and flour are completely combined and there are no signs of the white flour. This will take about 2-3 minutes.
  6. Pour in the milk.
  7. Turn heat to medium and watch so that it doesn’t burn. Wait for the milk to bubble and then whisk until all the lumps are gone and it has taken on a thick consistency. This will take approximately 5-7 minutes.
  8. Add salt–we used about a teaspoon.
  9. Add pepper to taste. Let simmer on low while you get the bread ready.
  10. Cut slices of French bread about ¾ inch thick.
  11. Toast all the bread slices and then butter afterwards.
  12. The eggs should be ready by now.
  13. Dump out the hot water and pour cold water over them so that they are cool enough to peel.
  14. Peel the eggs.
  15. Slice each egg into small chunks and add to the yummy gravy.
  16. Stir it lightly until combined.
  17. Now the way we do it around these parts, is we take the bread and we pour the gravy over the top and then we dive in. There is always a fight over the last slice of bread–always.
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Ashley Stock

I'm Ashley. Sometimes I craft, occasionally I cook, everyday I write, and I'm always Momma. This is my blog. I keep it real while still seeing the rainbows and butterflies in all of life's lessons.

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  • Jacqui
    November 23, 2011

    Looks yummy! Have fun chica!
    Jacqui

    Reply
  • Suzie H
    November 23, 2011

    I love reading your family stories. Your pictures just bring it all to life for your readers. I think I will have to give this recipe a try soon. It sounds like something my dear hubby would love. Thanks for sharing with us! Happy Thanksgiving!

    Reply
  • shelley
    November 23, 2011

    i learned to make this, too! it was a traditional Christmas morning breakfast for my man growing up. Not sure when they started it, but it is a yummy dish!
    we vary in that i make toast ripped into pieces, add the white gravy with only the whites of the boiled eggs added in over the broken pieces of toast. then sprinkle broken up egg yolks on top. sprinkle pepper.
    enjoy your visit in WY! we are in Utah 🙂

    Reply
  • Sarah
    November 23, 2011

    This meal holds a special place in my heart. My cousins and I would always request this when we would stay over at my grandparents’ house. This is the first meal my grandma taught me to cook. Also, creamed eggs on toast was the first meal I made for my husband when we were dating. I didn’t know other families made this, I thought it was a secret “Bell Family Recipe.” P.S.- Love the blog!

    Reply
  • Kellie Larsen
    November 23, 2011

    Pinned it! Yum!

    Reply
  • Morgan
    November 23, 2011

    mmmmmmm.

    Reply
  • Allyce
    November 23, 2011

    MMMM, these look delish! I will have to try! Happy cooking!

    Reply
  • Michelle Parrott
    November 23, 2011

    this recipe looks FANTASTIC!!!!!!!! unfortunately i live in a household that doesn’t like creamy things! (i know – it’s CAH-RAY-ZEE) but i’m thinking i may just make it for myself one day 🙂 thanks for sharing! hope you’re enjoying your time there!

    Reply
  • Megan
    November 23, 2011

    I love that pic of Lil W! Too cute and yeah he is not even aware of the camera, so the eggs are quite legit!

    Reply
  • Redheaded Daybook
    November 23, 2011

    Oh my goodness!
    Kill me now – this looks amazing!!!!!!!!
    I’ve def got to try this 🙂
    Thanks!
    PS. totally cute fit 🙂

    Reply
  • Jayna Rae
    November 23, 2011

    This looks pretty much like it is the bees knees.

    Reply
  • Carly @ Bloom
    November 23, 2011

    Looks like a recipe my husband would LOVE. Thanks for sharing, I’ll probably try it tomorrow!

    Reply
  • AmandaX
    November 23, 2011

    Love this recipe! My Grandma always makes it for us whenever we visit.

    Reply
  • Sierra
    November 23, 2011

    This is my favorite breakfast in the whole world, we grew up calling it Toastala (maybe it originated as toast a la eggs?) but with six kids a name like that gets abbreviated fast 🙂 My mom always made it without a recipe so I don’t have it written down anywhere but this one seems exactly like hers so I’m excited to have it on “paper!”

    Reply
  • Melissa
    November 23, 2011

    YUM!!! I’ve never heard of this before….but I plan on try this! Another EXCELLENT post!

    Reply
  • Dani
    November 23, 2011

    Can’t wait to try this for the family! Thanks! btw that babe is heavenly….have a great vacation we are suppose to be that way this week too but weather is not permitting! 🙁

    Reply
  • Jodi Hall
    November 23, 2011

    looks yum!

    Reply
  • Erin
    November 23, 2011

    This looks awesome! I grew up in a very small town with lots of farms and cow grazing…and plenty of snow! Now I live in the desert and it is in the high 80s today. After seeing these pics…I am wishing I was back in Illinois right now enjoying some snowy holidays! Have fun cooking this week!

    Reply
  • Lisa F
    November 23, 2011

    Oh my gosh! You”re just about 40 minutes up the road from me! (I-25 that is) I’m in Colorado though! Have a wonderful Thanksgiving!

    Reply
  • Ashley!
    November 24, 2011

    Hi! I’ve been reading your blog for about a month or so (I found you through a Pinterest post, weirdly enough!) & am totally delighted to hear you’re in Cheyenne; I live here, and you are SO lucky you scored such a gorgeous weekend to be here, too! 😀
    If you’re here through the weekend and it’s still nice out, I totally recommend the Thanksgiving parade and the tree-lighting ceremony at the depot downtown; it’s quaint and adorable and makes you feel all happy-small-town-cozy 🙂

    Enjoy your visit, gorgeous girl!

    Reply
  • michelle LMM's Momma
    November 24, 2011

    That looks yummy. Can’t wait to taste all of Jans good food. Miss you guys. Have a blessed Thanksgiving Day.

    Reply
  • Kara
    November 24, 2011

    Hi! I’m waving to you from Laramie! If you think Cheyenne is small, you should come visit Laramie 🙂 Have a great Thanksgiving!

    Reply
  • misty
    November 24, 2011

    Going to try this one!! Looks yummY! My baby Logan has the same jammies as Lil W.

    xoxo

    Reply
  • rachel foos
    November 24, 2011

    Looks delicious Ash!!! I saw your mama this morning and I said hi little miss mamas mama!!!! Miss your pretty face! Hope to see you soon! XOXO

    Reply
  • The Girlie Blogger
    November 24, 2011

    Wow. It is really snowing hard there, like a winter wonderland.

    The recipe looks yummy. I’d love to try it for breakfast some time.

    http://www.thegirlieblog.com
    http://www.geekettegazette.com

    Reply
  • Melanie Cantelmo
    November 24, 2011

    Oh my goodness, that looks so good! YUM!

    Reply
  • Kellie Larsen
    November 24, 2011

    Just fyi- I made these this morning and they were a HIT! Thank you for sharing!!

    Reply
  • Dalia
    November 24, 2011

    I Just made it and the family LOVED IT! Thank you for sharing it. Enjoy your Thanksgiving with the family and enjoy that beautiful snow!

    Reply
  • Laura
    November 25, 2011

    Wow, that DOES look legit! I hope you got more to share! 🙂

    Reply
  • Kerry
    November 26, 2011

    If you have any spare time we should meet each other and get together to craft! Good times!!

    Reply
  • Sally
    November 26, 2011

    This post made me laugh, because if you are from Wyoming, than Cheyenne is actually a big city. And my husbands family makes that breakfast also (must be a Wyoming thing) only they call it something else. I wasn’t all that fond of it the first time I ate it, but it has grown on me over the years.

    Reply
  • jamie
    November 26, 2011

    My man’s mama makes this on holiday mornings but i didn’t realize how easy it is to make. I made 1/3 the recipe and it came out great! Thank you for this. 🙂

    Reply
  • Cassie
    November 27, 2011

    First off, thank you for always being so real. You are adorable and talented, yet humble and I know that your readers appreciate that. There is nothing better than cousins and Thanksgiving, that’s how I grew up and now my kids are having the same experience. I can’t wait to make this! My MIL taught me how to make my husband’s favorite, biscuits and gravy and now he admits that mine is better than hers, THAT’S an awesome feeling! However, sausage isn’t something that I always have on hand so this will make a great substitution. Can’t wait to try it out! Thanks for sharing. Happy Holidays!

    Reply
  • Christine
    November 28, 2011

    Want to make that even better? Fry up some bacon and crumble it in! Seriously the yummiest thing ever! I’d forgotten how much I adore this stuff. I know what I am having for breakfast Saturday morning! 🙂

    Reply
  • Marianne
    December 1, 2011

    WOW! Another family (actually many after reading the comments) was raised on this too! My mom used to add many different things to it too. Sometimes it was breakfast sausage and green chilies instead or eggs. Or if it was dinner (yes we loved it that much) it was frozen peas and cubed potatoes. Oh man was that good! Thanks for the blast from the past!

    Reply
  • Marianne
    December 1, 2011

    Oh, and I live in Wyoming as well, but we were living in AZ when we ate this! And Cheyenne is considered a “big city” around these parts. =)

    Reply
  • Jenna S.
    December 1, 2011

    And here I thought I was one of the only people to make this! Most people see it and thinks it looks gross…maybe because it’s lumpy?

    My grandmother used to make this, then my mom, and now I always do. Luckily, my boyfriend loves it, too. My mom used to make them on Easter, but I don’t think I can have them only once a year.

    Reply
  • Rebecca @ My Girlish Whims
    December 1, 2011

    I have NEVER ever heard of this recipe, but now I’m convinced. Looks so yummy!!!

    Reply
  • jonique beach
    December 1, 2011

    I madE this when I went to Az and I think it is a new favorite for some people! Yummm

    Reply
  • Kirtley A
    December 1, 2011

    I made this tonight for dinner and it was so good. Everyone loved it. I’ve already been told I have to make it this weekend for breakfast.

    Reply
  • Lisa A
    December 1, 2011

    These look yummy! I might have to try this recipe 🙂

    Reply
  • Monica
    December 3, 2011

    I’ve been reading your blog for a few months after being led here from your necklace tutorial on Pinterest, and I a glad I did! I just made this for a few friends and it was amazing! Thank you so much!

    Reply
  • Marie @ Pouty Pink Princess
    December 3, 2011

    That looks delish! I need to learn a few recipes from my MIL too!

    Reply
  • Mark
    December 4, 2011

    My family and I grew up on this. We called it egg stuff. Like shelley we would tear up regular toast and smother it. My grandmother and mother both made this for us. Never shared the recipe with me. The only difference was they would smash the egg yolks up in a bowl with a fork before adding them to the mixture. Thanks for sharing! 🙂

    Reply
  • ANI
    December 5, 2011

    looks delicious i have to try this on a saturday morning when everyone is home!!! my mom in law is also an amazing cook so i always let her cook away when she comes to visit or when were at her house. It’s like having our own little chef i love her to pieces she is amazing!!! thanks for sharing

    Reply
  • Herocakepops
    December 5, 2011

    looks so yummy and lovely for a cold morning! I can’t wait to try!

    Reply
  • MrsWahl
    December 13, 2011

    OMG. I made this for dinner last night and it was SO scrumptious! Hubs loved it too. Thanks for the recipe, it just made it into our family meal rotations!

    Reply
  • danyiel Johnson
    December 19, 2011

    I’m not sure I can get behind creamed eggs.

    Reply
  • Crystal Sitek
    December 23, 2011

    I had been dying to try this for 2 weeks and finally made it this morning. While it looked exactly like the photos, it didn’t taste like I imagined it would…it was super bland, making me think I made it wrong? Any suggestions?

    Reply
  • Kim Shokouhi
    January 25, 2012

    I’ve grown up with creamed eggs on toast also. We actually eat it for dinner. One thing we do a little different is we don’t cut up the yolk in the gravy – we set them aside and use a cheese grater and grate them on top!

    Reply
  • Lisa
    April 6, 2012

    OH, I can’t believe I found this! This is our special family recipe. I’m from Wyoming, maybe it’s a Wyoming thing? My grandmother made it all the time. My mother (who was never a good cook!) took years to learn how to make it, and we ate many failed (cheese separated) attempts. Our “recipe” was never written down— it was always guessed amounts according to how many servings and how many eggs. Because it is so heavy and creamy, we only have it a couple times a year. Once on EASTER morning– it is a great way to use up all those hard boiled dyed Easter eggs!!! And maybe once in the middle of winter on a lazy snowed-in day.

    Reply
  • Lisa
    April 6, 2012

    Oh, I forgot– we also sprinkle paprika on top at the end– tastes great, and gives it a bit of color!

    Reply
  • Alicia
    May 10, 2012

    i’m pretty late on my comment but first, can i just say that this photo of your son is the sweetest!! those innocent little eyes and the secret little easter egg in the background of baby sleeping on someone’s chest! perfection! now then, this recipe looks awesome! sometimes i’m not really keen on egg whites alone….i wonder if scrambled eggs would work or if it would ruin the recipe. 🙂

    Reply
  • Terry
    October 15, 2012

    My mom would make this once or twice during the winter. I’m from Ohio. The only difference in this recipe and hers was that she would add Velveeta or chedder cheese, sometimes both. Enough to make it yellow. Hahaha! I too thought it was a unique family recipe or something from her native state of PA.

    Reply
  • betty
    November 10, 2012

    Thanks for the recipe, Ashley. I’ve always wanted to try this. I will this week!

    Reply
  • Betzy
    March 25, 2013

    Hi Ashley,
    Loved the pictures of your beautiful children. Thank you for posting this recipe. My mother made this only on special holidays. She was a wonderful cook but never had a written recipe. It was difficult to reproduce her wonderful cooking without exact instructions. She died this past December and I miss her so. Thank you for giving me a piece of her and wonderful memories of our family holidays.

    Reply
  • Tasha
    September 24, 2013

    I made this and came across a few problems…first, did you use salted butter? I had to add way more salt than a teaspoon. And I cooked the butter and flour until it combined but I wished I had waited until it had browned more. I know you said 2-3 minutes but it didn’t specify that even after it was combined you needed it to brown. After some tweaks it turned out pretty good but kind of bland. Any suggestions for additional seasonings?

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  • Christa
    January 19, 2014

    I’ve made this for years. My kids love it.
    Sprinkle a little cheese and some bacon crumbles on top, and they are all over it.
    A request for it on special occasions is not unusual around here. Birthdays are in a couple of weeks
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  • yola
    November 3, 2014

    I’ve been making creamed eggs for years. It has always been that special breakfast on holidays that is traditional for my family. However I make mine a little different. Instead of butter I cut about 6 strips of bacon into 1/2 ” pieces and fry them. I drain the bacon and set it aside. Then I sauté onions in the bacon grease along with some garlic. Add the flour and make a rue. Add milk to make cream sauce. After that thickens I add my hard boiled eggs. And there you are. The family favorite.

    Reply
  • Stephen
    November 23, 2014

    My family has been making this for decades. I made a variation today and used Rosemary olive oil ciabatta rubbed with garlic, then topped that with Canadian bacon, purple asparagus, and then the creamed eggs. It’s was wonderful.

    Reply
  • Anita
    June 11, 2015

    This is a family tradition going back decades. My father’s father taught him. I’m sure he learned from his mother. I have younger kids now that are terribly picky eaters, but I hope that one day they will enjoy this as much as I have always loved it. I found out just today that my nieces have learned to make it for their children. Love how a simple, inexpensive, yet, tasty meal has been passed down from generation to generation.

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I'm Ashley. Sometimes blogger. Everyday oiler. Cozy homemaker. Milestones. Meltdowns. Life lessons of a momma-in-training.

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I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
littlemissmomma
littlemissmomma
•
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I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing. I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. @breatheandbloomessentials —— Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
1 week ago
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2/4
This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
littlemissmomma
littlemissmomma
•
Follow
This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
2 weeks ago
View on Instagram |
3/4
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
littlemissmomma
littlemissmomma
•
Follow
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
1 month ago
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4/4
@littlemissmomma

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Happy Sunday ☀️ Hang in there ✨
littlemissmomma
littlemissmomma
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Happy Sunday ☀️ Hang in there ✨
3 days ago
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I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing.

I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. 

I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. 

Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. 
@breatheandbloomessentials 
——

Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
littlemissmomma
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I’ve started writing this post a thousand times since I got home from my trip, but each time the words never seemed enough to capture the magnitude of my experience. Sometimes that’s just how life is. Rare experiences, too powerful and full of magic to be articulated. And I think that’s a good thing, a gift, a blessing. I cried a lot last week. Happy tears. Tears of gratitude. Tears of longing. Tears of hope and happy. Tears reminding me of all that was dreamed of, all that was sacrificed and earned and stretched and nurtured to bring this beautiful week to fruition, all that led to this culmination of love and grace so generously passed back and forth amongst women I adore. I got to hug and hold and laugh with women who have become like sisters to me, even though this was our first time meeting in person (life is generous in this way). I got to cry and laugh and dream again with soulmates that share the hopes of my heart. I got to be reminded and encouraged and slapped around a bit with the truth and knowing that we are responsible for how we chose to experience our life and circumstances and we CAN indeed build the life we imagine for ourselves. Above all, I got to give thanks. For all that has been and is yet to be. For new beginnings—a fresh start armed with the many lessons learned from the countless times I gave myself permission to begin again in the name of growing and continuing to show up in this one wild and precious life. @breatheandbloomessentials —— Scooters in heels at night. Swig cookies on door dash for dinner. Happy hour meatballs. Limo to the farm. Boob tape. $9 purses. Broken luggage vouchers. Bike parades. Stevie Nicks roadies. Ice buckets. Friendship bracelets. Baby horse kisses and nibbles. Bare feet in a cold stream of lavender water. Cafe Rio. Free People. GiGi Pip. Wolf berry slushy. Baby wearing. “Lookin good”. Josef and Tonia. Dance offs. The perfect jeans for all of us. New hats. Late nights. More boob tape. Blisters and sore feet. Lot a fire under her butt. Sketchy Uber drivers. 90’s hip hop playlist. Choose Frank. Iced Chai Tea. Oil up Buttercup. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.
1 week ago
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2/4
This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
littlemissmomma
littlemissmomma
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This morning I was reminded just how much I love working from cute coffee shops when I’m traveling. Chocolate croissants. Chai tea and apple cider. Friendly baristas. People watching. Feeling inspired and grateful. The good company helps too 😜 @danielleburkleo @caseyleighwiegand @chandlermadeco
2 weeks ago
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3/4
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
littlemissmomma
littlemissmomma
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I can almost hear her saying “airplane” when i look at this picture 💕 #stevielynnstock #starsforstevie
1 month ago
View on Instagram |
4/4
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