4th of July came right in the middle of one of the craziest spells in my life. I had a 4 week old baby, a houseful of barfing/pooping houseguests, a still-sore c-sectioned stomach and a life that was just generally upside down. But come hell or highwater, I was determined to sit under the big summer sky with my little crew and watch fireworks on Independence Day. It is one of my very favorite traditions. And so our tired little band, barely recovered from the stomach flu, ventured out to show our patriotism. We sat in the back of the van and watched the sky turn technicolor. I think there were some poppers exploding in my heart, too -- I was so happy to be out with my favorites. Next year we will bring snacks and drinks and it will be perfect-er. God Bless America!