3 is a magic number.

A week ago my firstborn turned 3 years old. When she woke up in the morning and crawled into our bed, both Papa J and I sang 'Happy Birthday' to her and she smiled from ear to ear.

For a whole week she couldn't stop talking about her birthday. I've never had so much fun running errands with her! She picked out her piñata and the goodies to go inside all while talking about her party nonstop. It was fun.

I had many thoughts about what I wanted to do for her party, but then thinking about it and trying to pull it off overwhelmed me. A lot. So I decided to simplify (always best) and go with the flow. We went to the beach, grilled up some hamburgers & hot dogs, played with bubbles, emptied a piñata, ate cupcakes and popsicles, opened presents and played in the water all while forgetting my camera to take pictures. Thank goodness my mother-in-law had three cameras with her as well as my friends. Otherwise I would have been completely bummed.

I've learned a lot these last 3 years about myself and in particular about being a mother. My lifestyle has changed, though I try to still have fun, because my priorities stand with my children. They are my life and I now live through them. The terrible twos are mostly gone and I'm hoping age 3 comes with new light. We still have our occasional melt-down and whining, but everyday gets better and better as we learn more about how to deal with each situation.

I'm not a very good writer so to put into words about how I feel about my firstborn is difficult. But I can say that I love her with all of my heart. She makes me pull my hair out and laugh at the same time. She's sassy and sweet and is the best at giving bear hugs and kisses after reading books each night. She is my Little Z. A one-of-a-kind and she is mine.

And I can't pass up this picture of Cici at the beach. Papa J built her a little seat to keep her stationary for awhile. Well for at least a couple of minutes.