A couple of weeks ago, I saw one of those cheesy things on Facebook. You know the ones, the pictures with some pseudo meaningful quotes that really only pertains to - and offers a glimpse into the life of - the person who posted or shared it. Usually I'm a normal person who reads them and scrolls on, but I accidentally saw one that made me go, "huh" and nod my head.

I'm summarizing, but basically it was along the lines of not punking out and saying "I don't have time for blah-blah" but instead swapping it out for "blah blah is not a priority." The idea is that there are valid things that are not a priority and you don't have time for, but if you say that sentence and it makes you feel uncomfortable, then you need to make a change.

There are a ton of things I've been saying I don't have time for that make me sick when I acknowledge that maybe they're not a priority. I have this mole on my clavicle that randomly started bleeding a month ago -- and side note, I challenge you to google the words "mole" + "bleeding" without having a panic attack and then also do not try mixing it up with "mole" + "do I definitely have cancer" + "???!" And for what it's worth, I'm not joking about this because I am prone to paranoia and cancer is real, but I kept putting off a trip to the dermatologist because it's not really convenient in the summer months. But then I swapped out "I don't have time for this" for "my actual life is not a priority" and long story short, I made an appointment.

That brings me to my next, less serious point. As you can see, I was all I don't have time for writing, which seems reasonable and if it doesn't, I will defend myself all day because I have a baby who hates sleep. But, suggesting that writing isn't a priority kind of made me sad. For a long time, I defined myself as a writer and it's kind of a bummer to lose part of your identity, even to such a fulfilling new one.

So here I am, on a Tuesday evening, making it a priority. Mass consuming Orange is the New Black can't be the only priority in my life, after all.

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Duke man is nine months old now, you guys. I don't know why I stopped writing monthly updates about him, but I sure am sorry because he changes so much. When he was born, I was like, the newborn phase is the best phase for sure. But then he turned three months old and started to smile, and I was like, this is it! This is the best. But then at seven months he started belly laughing, and at eight months, he started saying "da da da da da da" and at nine months he's the coolest company to have, and this is definitely the best. It's just so cool now that he's able to exhibit more and more of his personality.

In the last month or so, God has gifted me with the happiest little boy. He popped a few teeth and it's like the relief of a few weeks rest from growing new ones has him feeling all kinds of euphoria and he's just been happy. He also recently started growling, which is hilarious. I'm not kidding either, he straight up growls on the regular.

I've been thinking a lot about the future and I know there are really good years in front of us, but I hope with my whole heart that I am able to always remember the right now with crystal clarity. The quiet happy hours with Ryan when we both get out of work and are too exhausted to go out. The slicing up strawberries into tiny pieces and eating breakfast with Duke when it's still dark out. The listening to NPR in the morning and crossing my fingers that it makes my baby extra smart. The determined look on his face when he runs across the kitchen in his walker. I think someday I'm going to look back at this and cry, because it's so good.



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We're off to battle this stupid cloudy weather (has this June been the rainiest ever?!) and taste test some strawberries at the farmer's market. Happy Saturday, folks. And rabbit rabbit!