I spent my birthday more or less in a funk. Willy and I were awoken several times throughout the night by Van, who threw up multiple times and required several diaper changes. Willy took care of all of it and come morning, I felt like no having to care for and clean up after Van was my birthday present. That and the half finished list of things I wanted done around the house. Yes, you read that correctly. For my birthday I gave Willy a list of things to do around the house; things like “clean out the garage”, “add shelf to closet”, and “put toilet paper holder in downstairs bathroom”. And when I woke up in the morning to a sick baby and a garage we still can’t fit a car into, I was a little… I dunno… funkdafied. Oh snap, did I just quote Da Brat? I did. Whatever, it is / was my birthday.  

With no real plans, we spent the morning into the afternoon waiting to see what Van had in store for us. I got some terrific massages from Willy (my back, and body for that matter, has been sorer than usual since I started physical therapy a few weeks ago, which makes me grouchy and on edge and is really a whole other blog post in itself), my sister brought me a grilled cheese and fries from Denny’s (cuz’ I eat like a child), and since Van appeared to be back to normal we headed to Crystal Cove beach for dinner. We waited an hour and a half for a table at the Beachcomber, but waiting for a table with the great big Pacific Ocean in front of you really isn’t waiting at all. In fact, it was perfect. I got to shoot a couple of my favorite little people in the most perfect lighting and when I met Willy at the table barefoot and complaining of my last sandals, he miraculously went out and found them sitting by there lonesome in the sand. It was as if the day had said, “don’t judge me so soon”. And then we saw dolphins. I know, I know, it was cray. Shoot me now for saying “cray”.  

The garage can wait until Christmas, I suppose.