all kinds of happy

Boy am I glad he was born. 


I didn't think I could love Adam any more than I did. 


And then he became a dad. 


Happy Birthday, honey! I awesome sauce you.

bringing breezy back

Most of you who know me know I've had a blunt bob (both blonde and brunette) for circa 12 years. I chopped my hair when I was 16, and that's the short of it.


These days I've been attempting to grow my hair out — despite the fact that as my locks have lengthened, so have my blow-dry times. (Ugh and a half.)


But this picture — taken by cute sis Julie — has inspired me to be in it for the long haul. 


My long-for-me locks are billowing in the wind, people. Billowing! 


Just call me Breezy.


P.S. Excuse the ghostly gams. Please and thank you.

little stinker

Learn stink eye? 


Check.

Adam thinks it looks like she's trying out for Michael Jackson's "Thriller."

Is he right or is he right? (Psst! He thinks he's right.)

mom's the word

Maggie calls me Mama.


She's done it enough times now that I know she means it (and it's not just a figment of my wishful imagination). 


I'm like putty in her hands, people. Putty in her hands.


It doesn't matter that 90 percent of the time she says it because she wants something (and wants it, like, now). It doesn't matter that she says it while she whimpers and paws at my knees. It doesn't matter that she'll say it in love (and annoyance, I'm sure) over the next forever. 


I'm her mom. And she knows it.