About Me,  Culture of Death,  Traveling with Children

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Oh heeeeeeey there.

Just popping in from an endless week of perfectly behaved flying children (I am not being one tiny bit sarcastic, they were amazing angels and I am equal parts proud and mystified), visits to TargetWalmartChipotleKohlsrepeatrepeatrepeat, and nights of blissful, uninterrupted slumber, facilitated by loving grandparents, compassionate siblings, and the best sleep American-made mattresses can buy.

In short, we are in heaven. And aside from Wednesday’s little blip on the radar of all that is good and holy apparently dying a pitiful public death, all is right with the world. Case in point: I’m currently lounging poolside, typing on my brand new laptop, soaking in the Florida sunshine and free wifi, and not caring one bit if the kids are awake or not (probably not, they’re angels, I tell you) because Daddy is  napping with them in our palatial hotel room. And we have a babysitter for tonight.

So thank you, Maggie, one of my sweetest and best friends, for getting married this weekend, for throwing such a swank Southern affair of a wedding (monogramed everything. Heavenly, I tell you.), and for living in America. Ironically, she’ll be winging her way to bella Roma for a dreamy Italian honeymoon come Monday, and my wonderful husband wrangled the happy couple a private Mass with Pope Francis. Don’t ask, cause I won’t tell.

La dolce vita indeed.

If anyone needs me for the next 10 days, I’ll be wandering the aisles of a SuperTarget (possibly near you) and eating way too much Mexican food. Gotta grow this baby bump to American standards somehow…


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