Most of you know that my mom and I share a birthday. Yep, she had to go through labor on her birthday to deliver me. Poor thing. This sharing of the birthdays has really blown Presley's mind. I would tell him that we were going out to celebrate Gigi's birthday and then Jason would say that we were celebrating mommy's birthday. He refused to believe that it was my birthday. The entire weekend it was Gigi's birthday and when someone would mention my bday he would immediately correct them. We tried telling him that we share the same day but at 2 1/2 years old, you share nothing.
I have to lean in and sneak pictures with P these days. He is either way too busy or just down right refuses to pose or smile. #Paparazzi Problems.
Or if he does decide he will give us his 2 seconds he must mess it up by being silly.
Case in point:
but he is so darn cute doing it. The only family shot we got.
Nothing like celebrating your birthday with a big fat heartbreaking loss. The only thing that makes the pain bearable is watching the game with this little guy who apparently, like me, thought Chris Relf would start. Notice the jersey.
I texted this picture to Jason yesterday and wrote: Ran out for a quick errand and yes these are my house shoes. Don't judge. He quickly responded: Sad, Don't tell me this is what 31 is?
My response: Yes. Next time I will go out in my curlers.
I didn't even attempt to tie them.
I spy:
A Daredevil.
I am sure a broken bone is in our future.
Love the golf course on these late fall evenings. Peaceful.
and my last thought: I should have been British. I love hot tea. I could drink it all day.
Happy Tuesday.
1 comments:
i want your hair and your mccarty tea cup.
Post a Comment