5-14-2025 From Cringe-Worthy Comedy to Canyon Breezes: A Week of Laughs, Lessons & Baseball

Life Lately: Mother’s Day, Teen Angst & a Breath of Fresh Air

Let’s start with Mother’s Day, shall we? Because this year… Tag nailed it. He found a comedian who specializes in “deliberately awkward” video messages—specifically the kind where the guy plays an over-the-top mama’s boy who tries way too hard to snag the girl and thinks he’s sexy… but absolutely is not. It was peak cringe in all the best ways. I laughed, I cringed, I clutched my chest from both affection and discomfort. It was, hands down, the best gift he’s ever gotten me. We’re not typically big on gift-giving, but apparently the bar has now been set—and it’s wearing a leather coat and calling me Queen Victoria.

The rest of the weekend was a mix of joy and, well, parenting reality. Bridger had his last baseball games of the season—playoffs, no less. They came in second, after a wild rally in the final inning where the coach put in all the kids who’d been benched, including Bridger. The irony was not lost on us. It’s been hard watching him sit out so much when he’s been showing up, giving effort, and actually playing well. Add to that the ongoing “teenage boundary testing” at home, and let’s just say Mother’s Day ended on a less heartwarming note.

We’re in that uncomfortable space where we’ve pulled back privileges after discovering some behavior hadn’t stopped—despite clear expectations. It's tense. I know every parent walks this line—wanting to protect while trying not to suffocate—but wow, the balance is hard. I don’t have a perfect answer yet. Right now, I’m just trying to stay grounded and remind myself that love doesn’t always look like “yes.”

On a lighter note, Adam and I went to a Rockies double-header. They lost (because, Rockies), but we had box seats thanks to a lender. I’ve never been that spoiled at a sporting event before—open bar, good food, cookies that tasted like luxury—and best of all, uninterrupted time with my brother. Which, oddly enough, we don’t get much of even though we work together.

Then came a sweet little escape: bikes, canyon breezes, and the promise of spring. Tag spent the morning tuning up our bikes so we could cruise Clear Creek Canyon. At one point, the trail wound close to the water, and the air smelled perfect—flowers, damp leaves, that “something alive” scent that only happens in spring. I actually had to pause and say, “This. This is it.” That quick flash of joy made up for the ticket Adam’s friend got for parking too long (sorry, again). A small price to pay for a day that reminded me life still has easy, beautiful moments tucked in the middle of everything.

Real Estate Vibes: The Calm Before the Chaos

On the real estate front, I’m firmly in “hurry up and wait” mode. I’ve got a handful of sellers prepping their homes—decluttering, painting, debating if now is really the time—and I’m just over here like a racehorse at the starting gate.

It’s not my favorite phase. I like action. I like momentum. I like when the ink is drying on contracts and I’m juggling inspections with staging plans and a flurry of group texts about key codes. But right now, it’s the quiet before the storm. And if there’s anything I’ve learned over the years, it’s this: when real estate is calm, soak it up. Rest, recharge, and maybe clean out your CRM because the next wave is coming—and I’ll be ready.

One highlight this week was checking out a stunning new build in Como. Unlike the cookie-cutter mountain contemporaries that dominate the comp set, this one had personality. Thoughtful design, unique finishes, and views that would make your shoulders drop. Unfortunately, the sellers have decided to wait until next year to list. It’s their second home, and they're not in a rush—which makes sense given the current market. But man, I hope they call me next year when they’re ready. I already have the pitch rehearsed.

So that’s the week. A mix of late-spring energy, parenting puzzles, and real estate anticipation. As always, I’m grateful—for the deals I’m nurturing, for the family moments that ground me (even the hard ones), and for open trails that smell like hope.