41 (and Mother's Day).

So... this is 41. Horrific black eye and all. 

To be fair, it started with breakfast in bed. Seth even made homemade whipped cream. A lovely touch, even if it was at like 6:30am and ended up with obscene amounts of nutella on our freshly washed duvet.

Also to be fair, this happened and instead of insisting the tickets get off their sleeping Dad immediately, I paused to take this picture 

and then I took a Ford skull to the orbital socket. 

So my birthday/ Mother's Day got off to an inauspicious start.

But it ended like this,

with a side of BFF t-ball,

a bike ride complete with (strangers') sprinklers,

a truly incredible flourless Godiva cake, 

and hangout time with this handsome guy. 

And Mauka.

When one throws in a Birthday Eve lake picnic,

which was unseasonably chilly but which included bundled-up paddling anyway;

my birthday/ Mother's Day was "practically perfect," as Mary Poppins says, "in every way."

40 was a year of growth and rebuilding and new beginnings. Who knows what 41 will bring (besides a weeklong- no kidding- celebration)? 

 

One can only grasp for silver linings these days, and hope that the next trip around the sun with this crew includes more of our renewed appreciation for (local) chill family time outside, with nothing on the usually-packed agenda;

reveling in things you never outgrow, like bubbles

and front porch pizza;

lots of family time, even if it means sharing workouts;

quality time with friends-who-are-family

(even their babies);

Murder, She Wrote on the couch (this was my birthday night, with Seth, an end to the day for which I was incredibly grateful);

and new adventures.
With travel currently on the back burner, lately that has meant Ford's burgeoning boxing career

and my attempts to get weenies roasted at the lake on a windy night when all I showed up with was dollar store charcoal and a lighter.

Thank goodness for our green beret.

It was a week of killer photos, but this one of Ford telling his "big girl" crush (in his best Seth voice) "you don't want to close your eyes when you jab" (bless her heart, she listened);

and this one of tailgate boxing at the lake

stole my heart.

Cheers to 41, to inadvertent and totally worth-it black eyes, to everyone who called and texted and sent best wishes and amazon gift cards which shall be spent on ridiculous things, and to another year of the chance to live and love big (even if we have to venture small).