At one point, after he had every stuffed animal he owned on top of me, he used himself as the cherry-on-top and dramatically laid across my giraffe- and bear-covered belly. I pulled him to the side because baby sister let out an angry kick, and snapped this pic just as quick as I could.
Of course, Eli didn't realize it was my birthday, even though I told him at least 34 times and sang "Happy Birthday" to myself another 14. He LOVED clapping along and letting out a little note here and there to the song every time, so I'm counting it as a win.
Someone asked me yesterday if this is where I thought I'd be at 28.
Not at all.
This is a much better place than I ever imagined.
I remember dreaming about 28 when I was in my teens - or at least dreaming about my late-twenties. I was incredibly cool, successful, single and well-traveled. I had a killer career, wore heels and probably even carried a "briefcase." (Do those even exist anymore?)
In reality, I'm a married, momma-of-two who's only place of travel is between Target and JoAnn. I'm a pretty average stay-at-home mom that wears sneaks and rocks a diaper bag even when my kid isn't in tow.
And you know what I think? I'm absolutely much cooler and more successful than my dreamy twenty-eight year old self.
I'm pretty glad that dream didn't pan out, because this life? So much better.
So here's to twenty eight continuing to not be what I ever dreamed of.
And I suppose in reality, that just means that I'm truly "livin' the dream." Right?