A Mexican March.

March 2013, take me back . . . to MEXICO!!! Forget that March is when I turned 33 (lame-o). Just take me back to the place where the sun burns away sorrows and blankets the people in bronze.

All that to say, if I could do March 2013 over again, I would. And I wouldn't change one thing.

 

I take that back. I would change one thing. The moment Harper pooped her pants at the airport, on the way to Mexico. And then puked on the plane. And then threw up in the airport shuttle. Twice, I think. I'd change all that. (I must give the girl props, though. She knows how to aim. Girlfriend puked in a cup and didn't miss a drop.)