Past My Rollercoaster Prime

Man, you guys. This mom + work thing gives me little downtime! Let me catch you up since we are having a successful nap time, so I can procrastinate mopping my floors.

Recently (not really, it was last month), Brian and I took a little day trip to Magic Mountain to hang out with his siblings, and I was reminded of a couple things:

1. Girls loved butterfly back tattoos in the 90s. Like, super loved. Sitting down in several rides, I was greeted by a faded green butterfly popping out of some grown woman’s pants, with all the beauty of a dying moth being strangled by a thong.

2. I’m not 18. Roller coasters as an adult are like a dog year situation. You have to multiply your current age by 4, and that’s the age you’ll feel the next day.

Buuuuut, then you’ll look at pictures and want to do it all over again. I’m lucky to have some fun inlaws!

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Go Go Go Go Go G-man, It’s Yo Birthday

My son is getting to be so much fun.

That sentence is the lamest, I know. It’s just that I sometimes am surprised how babies start using words and suddenly I’m like, “Oh, wait. You’re a turning into a little HUMAN! This is craaaay!”

The other day, I asked Gus to promise me he would always want to hang out with his mommy.
He said no.

Maybe that question translates differently in Two Year Old, because I’m pretty sure I bought him a Slurpee that day.


I will have to learn his language quickly, because a two year old is what we have now! I always thought I would enjoy planning parties, but I am so exhausted looking at everyone else’s kids’ parties on Instagram. Instead, I made a SUPER (duper) elaborate cake, and we ate Cafe Rio at my house with one other family. I call it having a “very exclusive” birthday party so I sound like a better mom.

Counting to two.
Counting to two.

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