a week with my mama

I don't want to forget it, y'all. It was so good.

While my dad and brother were off galavanting in the woods out west, my mom hopped a plane to come visit her firstborn and her firstborn's firstborn. And Andrew, of course.

After Jack cried the whole way home from the airport (stranger danger! stranger danger!) we picked up lunch and settled in for the afternoon until Andrew got home. Then he gifted us with a few hours of Jack-duty so we could run out and get groceries, but not before picking out some too-cute outfits for the little boy at Kohls. And we got coffee. There was a lot of coffee that week.

We spent the days catching up, reading magazines, laughing at Jack, drinking coffee, watching Andrew build things and trying to make as many memories as possible. We walked around our neighborhood, around Mystic and around the beach. We ate at THE Mystic Pizza and at Chester's BBQ and we drank more coffee. She gifted us with a date night and for the first time, maybe since before Jack was born, we went out and didn't worry about the little one sleeping back home. We talked like old times and laughed like old times and ate and drank like old times. That was a gift for sure.

Note to self: step AWAY from the iPhone and use your REAL camera. Amen.

My favorite day was when we walked down to the beach, put Jack on a blanket and ate hot dogs and onion rings by the water. The weather couldn't have been nicer, nor the company better. We talked and talked and laughed and laughed.

She's a good one, that mom of mine.

Mama? Hurry back, okay?