Blogiversary

Today is my three year blogiversary! (I know it's been three years because Rosemary is three years old.) :-)

My first post consisted of me wondering how I looked when I ran an errand at Target. Rosemary was almost four months old then and I was lucky to have a moment to myself, even if I looked like I had been run over by a semi.

Fast forward to today, and everything is so different. Our family increased by one and is now complete; no more pregnancy clothes for this mama! Poppy is a year old, and every day she walks farther and farther away from being a baby. Rosemary is an independent little lady, about to start preschool this fall.



My, how things change.


I wouldn't have it any other way.

iPhone Identity Crisis

I have a new cell phone.



Yes, it's an iPhone. My first ever. I liked my Android phone well enough before it started malfunctioning (totally my fault. I gave the phone to Poppy one morning so I could sleep in peace an extra 15 minutes, and she got baby slobber in the charging port... it didn't like that), but Senpai made the excellent point that our cell phones are our cameras, and the iPhone has the best camera. I'm using this thing to record my children's memories; it has to be the best.

In trying to make the phone mine, I bought a cute case and downloaded a few apps, but I was having problems picking a wallpaper. I went to pixel girl, a site that I used to get my candy-sweet wallpapers from, but nothing appealed to me. The bold rainbows, unicorns, and anime girls of my past no longer made me squeal with delight. Even the zen-themed cherry blossoms and bamboo sprouts didn't touch a chord. It all makes me wonder: who am I anymore? What images represent who I am today?

I really have no idea.

I was at a loss. I had stood in front of the display at the Apple Store for quite a long time to choose a phone case (the low blood sugar didn't help), but I finally picked one I love. So, in choosing a wallpaper, I did what seemed logical: downloaded one from the same person who designed the case.



Apparently, vintage roses represent the new me. Am I proud of that? Not especially. Do they make me smile? Yes.

And that's all that really matters.