7 and 37
Big weekend at the Whoorl household. D and I celebrated our 7-year anniversary on Saturday, and I turned 37 on Sunday. (Love all the sevens, by the way. Let’s hope that means a lucky year lies ahead!)
Southern California had a rainy weekend, which truthfully could not have made me happier. Chilly, fall weather? Yes, please!
Although the skies were stormy, it was all sunshine around these parts.
Saturday morning started with warm cinnamon rolls and tons of bacon.
Around noon, the clouds parted, and the sun came out in full force. We hopped in the car and drove to the park.
(Yes, it seems we were attempting a rainbow spectrum with the outfit. It’s what I like to call Laundry Day Attire.)
7 years! Best years of my life, D.
Sunday morning, I awoke to many surprises, the biggest of which coming from Wita. You see, Wita is a Daddy’s Girl on all counts. Wita LOVES her daddy. When D brought her into our bedroom to wish me a happy birthday, the strangest thing happened. Instead of giving me the usual half-assed hug and jumping back into Daddy’s arms, she just held on to my neck, followed by 30 minutes of cuddling in bed. HOW DID THIS HAPPEN? WHO TRAINED HER TO DO THIS ON MY BIRTHDAY? I don’t know, but I’ll take it.
I was then greeted by the most handsome little man I’ve ever seen, donning a beautiful bouquet of hydrangeas.
Now, it’s a really good thing this kid handed me some flowers, because what came out of his mouth about ten minutes later almost got him shipped to the orphanage. Wito is the epitome of a glass half-full, happy-go-lucky kid. Truly, he has nothing but nice things to say about everyone around him. This usually includes me, with the sweetest compliments coming out of his mouth on a frequent basis.
As I was sitting at the kitchen table, he sauntered over, looked at me and said, “Mommy, I think your mouth is going to fall off.” I looked at him in confusion, and asked what he meant. He stared at my face, pointed to my laugh lines, and said, “You have a big crack right there, and it looks like your mouth is going to fall off.”
OMG. ON MY 37TH BIRTHDAY. BIG CRACK. FACE FALLING OFF. Thank you, Wito. Needless to say, we had quite a laugh.
(After I shot about 8 vials of Botox into my face.)
(Although I’m tempted.)
In an attempt to stop my incessant staring at MY FACE CRACKS, D reminded me of another little gift.
Oh, yes. Black suede, cork platform, 4 1/2-inch heels. YES. (Look! The cork has cracks in it! JUST LIKE MY FACE.)
So, yes. 37 is here. And you know what? All joking aside, I couldn’t be happier, cracks and all.
We finished the day with a trip to Pizzeria Mozza.
Fried ricotta squash blossoms, greens with the most delicious lemon vinaigrette, incredibly hoppy beers (my favorite!), savory pizzas, and the kicker, a butterscotch budino with caramel sauce and Maldon sea salt. Perfect ending to a perfect birthversary weekend. Happy happy!