I don't know why it looks like I have a chipped tooth. I don't. But I do have, like, the best husband ever.
With Jen, one of my best friends from college in town for the birthdayfest.
Told you I'm 29. Bucket says so. See?
(With my fellow birthday celebrator, Jen's husband, who actually did happen to be turning 29. He had a bucket, too.)
(That guy lurking in the background was the 3rd birthdayer, my cousin Robbie, he's not 29 either and I can't really remember if he had a bucket or not.)
Say "time to go home, ladies, it's past the sitter's bedtime!"
And now? Rehab. These past two weekends of living it up have done mama in. My rehab of choice? A trip with the kids to SoCal later this week. The beach, the park, the sunshine, not a single flake of snow anywhere to be seen unless you look way off into the mountains, and I'm just not going to do that, because HELLO OMG I'm so SICK of the *&^%$#@ SNOW. Get ready for eleventy billion pictures of my kids on the beach, people.