Whatever: Birthdays and why WE own the summer

 My little baby girl turns 12 this weekend. Yes, 12. Not really a baby anymore. Actually closer to  college  than babyhood. She is my little mini-me in that she loves what I love the most. That is reading, cooking and being really silly.  

She looks  a little like me as well. But mostly she looks like herself and that self is just gorgeous. 

 

She was born on a Saturday morning, the weekend of Memorial day. My husband had just started his Chiropractic practice and was terrified of taking a day off. 

Our girl, in what soon would be a clear example of  a character trait of hers, started her business of labor when he got off work on Friday and was considerate enough to be born on a holiday weekend.

No work missed. That is how she has always rolled.

So, in mini-me style, her birthday kicks off summer and my birthday (I was born on Labor Day) shuts it down. We party all summer, for summer is the time of reading late into the night and cooking fabulous things that are so fresh and amazing.  Basically, it is a party for three glorious months.

 

So, as I drive my girl here and there all weekend and I suffer the guilt of changing my plans last minute with my little sister, I remember this...

Meat...not like me.

 We own the summer!

Happy Birthday!!!