Whining, Wine-ing & Winning

I woke up this morning feeling like I survived a minor natural disaster.

My phone was missing.

Shoes were scattered everywhere — not even in pairs.

Blankets from last night’s DIY forts lay crumpled across the living room.

Toy kitchen fruit appeared in every place I stepped.

Empty Modelo cans.

Karaoke microphones lounging on the fireplace.

And somewhere in the evidence pile: a few regretful Rumple shots and the faint memory of Milagro tequila reminding me to mom and not party like it’s my birthday. (It wasn’t.)

I walked through the house cautiously, half expecting to find a tiger in the bathroom and Mike Tyson in the kitchen.

No tiger.

No Mike.

Just a little evidence.

Evidence that, at some point, we were extremely committed to fun.

At some point in the evening, I apparently delivered a soft, heartfelt speech to my cousin about how we are getting through life, raising families, and somehow still making everything work.

You know — the kind of emotions that only arrive after karaoke and two beverages… or several questionable ones.

There were hugs.

There were tears.

This morning, I’m making breakfast while my little cousin proudly helps me stir blueberry muffins, with a sparkle in her eye.

I’m somewhat hydrated and reflecting on my not-so-great adult decisions.

The house is a mess.

But the memories are loud.

We laughed.

We sang.

We cried a little.

We built forts.

We made a mess.

We loved each other loudly.

And to be real, I will absolutely do it again — but with fewer Rumple shots.

During my walk of shame through the living room, I realized these are the moments I will never forget.

When my cousin’s family asked if they should get a hotel, I told them,

“If you do, I’ll be pissed. Stay here. Build memories. Let me take you under my wing the way you’ve always done for me.”

They came here for a concert — Hamilton — but I’d like to think we created our own musical last night.

These will be the moments their little girl remembers first. But she’ll also have the time of her life at the show tonight… and be glad she was here, meeting my daughter and playing with her like a built-in sister.

Tonight, after Hamilton, we’ll wind down again — probably with less tequila — and reflect as a family.

There will likely be more tears, laughter, singing, and love.

And honestly?

This sounds perfect.