Dreaming: Willy’s mentioned a few times that he’d like to go somewhere in the near future. For us, “go somewhere” involves a passport. I spent much of my early adult years exploring this great world of ours and when Willy and I started dating, I took him along for the ride. My hope at the time was that I would plant a seed for later adventures, and alas, that seed has sprouted. We’re talking about returning to Cuba because it was *incredible* the first time. I’d like to frolic around Havana in this dress. Now who wants to buy it for me?
Check out, Aisle three: There was a time I thought of getting a barcode tattoo. It was fleeting. Nevertheless, when I saw this shirt, it reminded me of that thought. All my thoughts about tattooes are fleeting. That’s why I don’t have any.
Lookout, Pauly Shore: Did you know they created a Biosphere in Arizona? I haven’t been, but I know Willy would LOVE to go. He’s into that science shit. It looks pretty amazing.
Saw this beautiful rug last week when I made my way through Target. Wishing I had a room to put it in.
Please welcome: I have a new sponsor and I’m totally smitten with their stuff. I’m such a sucker for a good romper. True story: I have countless rompers that I’ve put on the boys’ that Willy has vetoed because he says they’re too girly. I’ve handed them on to friends with little girls. But this romper is making my ovaries throw out more eggs than the Easter bunny.
Loved this post from Naomi. I think every mom out there can relate. Reminds me of this post I wrote. Why do we scrutinize each other?
Bad mom award goes to…. drum roll… muah. I locked Hooper in the car, with my phone and keys, after his gym class. I called the tow company but when the sweat beads started making waterfalls down his poor pink cheeks, I called the fire department. It was the worst part of my day, but at the very least, Hooper was pretty stoked to see the fire truck up close and personal (as a side note, there’s nothing like watching four big burley guys work together to get a locked door open only to be shown up by the pip-squeak of the AAA guy who, alone, opened the door with his little tool thing in seconds flat). Before this happened, Van knocked over our full length mirror and managed to cut himself on one of the thousand pieces of glass that was on the floor. Does that mean I get the bad mom award seven years in a row? If so, that sucks.