Ever since I was little, my dad’s side of the family has celebrated America’s birthday with brunch at my Grandma’s house.

This year, there was some talk that the celebration would be cancelled. Everyone took that to mean that America was over and England could have it back. Fortunately, the logistics got worked out and we had our patriotic breakfast another year ❤

So many relatives were feeling sick with colds this time around; Taylor and the boys included 😦 Those who were sick had received negative tests for C0v1d but decided to stay home anyway. I can’t remember life back before the pandemic, but are colds common in July?

Regardless, we had a lovely time together, just my girl and I with the family, chatting about everything and nothing. Thank you for hosting again Grandma! ❤

The 4th also happens to be my maternal grandpa’s birthday! Per tradition, we finished brunch with Grandma and made our way over to Grandpa’s 77th celebration.

I love visiting with these two.

After the party, it was home for dinner and bedtime.

Yep, you read that right.

We’re not big on fireworks here. As a kid, I would blubber my eyes out at fireworks shows. Now as adult I keep the blubbering on the inside. Taylor is quite literally the only other person I know who also doesn’t care for fireworks. Together we have made 3 children who are all terrified of fireworks. The last 2 shows we’ve attended have been hosted by wannabe anarchists. Our blankets – strategically placed farthest from the crowd- have caught fire TWICE. And a couple years back, a dear friend was hit in the FACE by a misfired rocket. The kids have internalized that fireworks will attempt to kill people.

This is acceptable.

So our day usually ends attempting to sleep with pillows over ears while neighbors loudly celebrate. But it’s a good day nonetheless.

Happy fourth, everyone.