The fourth of July is a special day.  A day for American’s to celebrate our freedom.  To reflect and remember our countries roots and stand proud to be a part of something so amazing.
The fourth of July is also my mother’s birthday.  My mother was born on a day full of celebrations.  Every birthday she celebrates ends in fireworks.  Pretty cool.  On the downside, she does have to share her birthday with AMERICA.  I didn’t even like sharing my birthday with a girl in high school.  Like ew, get your own day.

Mini and I planned a weekend celebration trip.  The plan was to come on the fourth, stay until Sunday, when we have Mike’s 30th birthday party and then head back home.  So the morning of the fourth, I find myself running around like a chicken with my head cut off.  Why?  Because I am damn lazy.  I didn’t pack the night before.  I had nothing put together.  My car looked like a bomb went off with such magnitude that I actually had to attack it with a hefty bag and air freshener.  { Note to Mini:  I found enough crumbs underneath your car seat to create 10 granola bars.  You just lost your car snacking privileges.  And as for the French fries I found under my own seat…so did I. }  Needless to say, the morning was flying by at a rapid pace.  Around 12:15 we hopped in the car and began the drive.  It takes exactly 2 hours.  Well, this time it took a few minutes more because someone, no names mentioned, decided to scream hysterically for 30 minutes and make me pull over 2x for no reason.  Thanks kid.

We finally get there and I’m unloading Mini from the car.  My mom, stepdad and sister are so excited to see her.  Me?  They could give a shit about seeing me.  I walk in the house with my usual declaration: “I’m STARVING!!  Are the hotdogs done!?!” And then my phone rings.  It’s Mike.  So my first thought is, seriously?  I just called him to tell him I was here, what did he forget to say?  But then I hear this..

“Danielle.  Do you have my car keys?”

Let me rewind for you, so you get the full effect of this situation.  Mike didn’t come with me, because he had to go to work.  And work on Friday.  And work on Saturday.  And he can’t find his keys.  (And somehow I have become a notorious key thief)

So I’m all like, “Absolutely not!  Why would I have your keys.  Your ridiculous.  Look in the drawer.  Look in the garage on the table”.  While in reality, my insides are melting.  My thoughts are racing, “Dear god, are you there, are you listening? PLEASE DON’T LET ME FIND HIS KEYS, I will NEVER ask you for meaningless crap again”.

My husband has a temper.  He’s Italian.  Go figure.  I can hear the heat in his voice.  I am in full panic mode.  Like, about to have diarrhea panic mode.  I hear him opening and slamming drawers and cabinets.  I have now dumped my diaper bag sending loose chips and broken crayons all over the house.  I run out to the car to start searching there.  My mother gives me a look that can only say, “oh shit”.  Because she knows.  She knows I have his keys.  She knows that my husband is anal ocd, and I am a disaster.  I see it on her face.

I have now tossed every bag, suitcase, make-up case, and toy out of my car onto the front lawn.  NOTHING.  No keys.  I open the trunk.  I was transporting a ridiculously large gift to give my husband at his party.  I heave the gift out of the trunk.

And I see them.  Now I am silent.  Mike knows.  I finally open my mouth, “Oh shit, what do I do now”.  He starts screaming.  I start crying.  My stepdad starts looking at overnight deliveries.

To make a long story, and even longer day, short…I drove back.  This time after eating 2 hot dogs in tears.  With my little sister and a stack of scratch off cards for entertainment.  I drove all the way back home.  2 hours.  Brought Mike his car to work, (thankfully someone picked him up to bring him so he wasn’t late because he literally would have killed me).  Then, we drove the long way home.  I don’t feel like I live so far from my family.  2 hours.  It’s nothing.  6 hours?  That’s a different story.

We finally arrived at 7ish.  My mom started mixing the martinis.  We ate a delicious meal of crab cakes, tuna tartar, and shrimp ceviche.  I relaxed.  Shit happens.  It is what it is.  I had to drive back.  It was an accident, my husband knew that.  I knew that.  It still sucked.

I figure I have 2 choices.  I can attempt to be more organized and careful, or I can take his car key off my ring and leave it on a hook in the garage.  I will be buying a hook tomorrow.

God bless America.  And Happy Birthday Mom.

It feels so strange to say those words.  It makes me feel old actually.  I met my husband on his 21st birthday.  Exactly 9 years ago.  We have been together ever since.

When you are involved in a serious relationship at a young age you are faced with 2 choices.  Either grow together or grow apart.  Mike and I were 18 and 21.  We had lots of growing to do.  We still do.  We chose to grow together.  To support each other.  To back one another up.  That is the choice we made all those years ago.  It is how we live today.  It is how we will continue to live our lives.  We chose each other.  In love.  In friendship.  In life.  And like any strong relationship, when shit gets tough we make martinis and get over it.

So Happy Birthday Mike.  Thank you for being you for all these years.  I cannot wait to celebrate 100 more birthdays with you.

This week has been insane.  We got back from our mini East Coast vaca late Tuesday night.  Barely enough time to bring our bags upstairs before Nicole and Milania came to visit!   Juliana and her cousin Milania are only 5 months apart.  When they were babies, watching them interact was well…kind of boring.  Now that they are older they are absolutely hysterical to watch.  My sister in law and I laughed A LOT while they were here.

I had all sort of plans for the 48 hours they would be here.  Imagine “Camp Danielle”.  Complete with activities, healthy snacks and scheduled nap times.  HA!  I must be all sorts of crazy.  It was complete chaos!

Lots of hugging, crying, yelling “MINE”, stealing goldfish crackers and running around naked.  I’ll let you guess who was yelling MINE and who was stealing the crackers.  And obviously it was Nicole and I running around naked.  Just kidding.  You freak.

Between my daughter wandering around target wearing a tiara and carrying a dinosaur piñata and Milania deciding to stay up well past midnight, it was an entertaining couple of days.  I was even lucky enough to get to squeeze in some activities 🙂

However, I am still trying to figure out how we went through every, single towel in this house.  If you need me, I’ll be doing laundry until further notice.

All in all I decided this.  1 child is easy.  2 is disorganized and chaotic.  3 must be a downright disaster.  4, forget it.  And Mrs. Duggar??  She is certifiably insane.  That being said, I still want at least 3 babies.  Hey, I never claimed not to be insane.  I embrace insanity.

Oh, and that adorable little niece of mine.  She is ALWAYS welcome.  Even if she is a late night goldfish thief.