With your fist holding tight...to the string of your kite

Do not adjust your glasses.

(unless you're a baby, in which case, do. We know you can't resist.)

Yes, it's me. Your resident mama blogger, emerging from two weeks chocked-full of busted pie moments. And by that I mean, the totally ordinary, highly unglamorous, utterly unblog-worthy mama moments.

Since I've been gone, I've done approximately 17 loads of laundry, methodically spring cleaned the entire house, squeezed in one much-needed (and subsequently, paid for) wine night, finished the damn dining table, made 6 Pinterest recipes in one 24-hour period, watched helplessly as one cake overflowed dramatically in the oven, and conquered our first tummy bug (twice).

Yes, friends, I'm here to report that I spent the end of February covered in various baby bodily fluids as we succumbed to our first stomach virus. I thought it was a short-lived one, until round 2 arrived. That day was a true low moment of motherhood thus far. At one point I put on a fleece which, unbeknownst to me, was completely covered in poop. Like I said, not really a moment worth capturing for the blog. I crawled into bed around 7 that Friday and didn't emerge until the next morning. I know you're wishing I'd checked in to chronicle that thrilling day.

And, apparently, 9 months is this dramatic period of development, wherein babies stop sleeping through the night. You can write the odds off, because your baby is a GREAT night sleeper. But add stomach flu and four teeth erupting at once and well, we didn't sleep much in February. Still aren't, actually. It messes with everything in a way that is too boring to describe in detail here, but agggggh!! I love wine night. My fist was holding tight to that wine bottle last week.

The tummy bug behind us, we turned to a fun weekend ahead with the Millers, who were coming to visit us. They couldn't have picked a more perfect time to visit. The house was back in order, all of us were healthy (though not completely rested...), Mt. Laundry was conquered and spring had sprung in Austin, Texas.

Not only that, but the 84th annual Austin Kite Festival was held at Zilker Park on Sunday, aka Cita's birthday. I bet you didn't know we were home to the oldest kite festival in America. As if you needed another reason to love this town. It was an absolutely GORGEOUS day - it kind of made me forget all about that awful summer last year. It was the most perfect day for kite flying that you ever did see, ordered up special for Cita's birthday I'm guessing.

All she wanted to do was play with her little grandbaby.

Eliza was happy to oblige.

The rest of the city was there too. Just us and a few thousand of our closest neighbors, flying kites.

You may fly kites, or babies. Take your pick. Just make sure to slather that baby in sunscreen. And put a hat on her, if she'll wear it (mine wouldn't).

(This is E. pretending she is a butterfly kite. Don't tell her she's really a baby.)

Daddy Jack, reeling her in.

(this is our real butterfly kite.)

("oooooh!": Eliza's new favorite word.)

We had a delicious lunch from the food trucks while we were there. Eliza had no problem digging up a little Park Salad to start, followed up by her entree of pumpkin quinoa and vanilla yogurt for dessert.

That is one event we will definitely be doing again. After we said our goodbyes to Daddy Jack and Cita, we decided to strap on the backpack and stroll the neighborhood. Just too pretty out not to. By some miracle, the child kept her hat on for the whole walk.

A little tuckered, are we? Fancy an uninterrupted night's sleep?
(in case you were wondering, she decided she didn't. But oh, goodness...I hardly even care. She is so sweet and those 4 a.m. snuggles I'm letting her get away with are heavenly. Once the last tooth emerges, I'll be laying down the law. I swear...)

A lovely, lovely weekend. I'm pledging to be outside as much as possible this month, as I fear by the end of it we'll all be in the pool crying about the heat. Spring doesn't last long around these parts...