Today is my sweet mom's birthday. She's in Colorado for the week, skiing with some of her friends.

Last summer I was going through old photo albums and came across this picture of her looking like a model. I immediately wanted to post it to Facebook or Instagram but decided to save it for a rainy day. But today seems perfect. Look at her!

Happy birthday, Mom. I love you.

It's bizarre, to simultaneously feel completely hopeless about one thing and so incredibly blessed about everything else. But I think that's just how life is sometimes.

To say that we stayed in this weekend would be an understatement. On Saturday afternoon Rob, Sean, and I ventured out to the mall to do some Christmas shopping and literally bought one thing before looking at puppies and then going home. Not productive. At home, we watched movies and ate a huge seafood dinner of scallops, lobster, and shrimp with my parents. We sat on the couch by the fire on Sunday morning and drank tea. Sunday afternoon brought a cooking marathon between my mother and I, and then Rob and I took a walk down to the dock and sat on the boat for a while.

I spent so many moments this weekend looking around me and feeling overwhelmed with gratitude. This family, this man, this food and these things that I sometimes take for granted without a thought. I feel so, so lucky for this life I've been given.

Somewhere in the rush of the holidays, when you're stressing out about what gifts to get for whom and if you're spending too much or not enough on each and how you're going to see everyone you need to see and where the hell your favorite boots have gone off to, your brother comes home from college and the two of you sit on the floor of your basement for two hours reminiscing and laughing until you cry, and then you remember what exactly this whole season is about.

Missing boots don't really mean too much when you have a life full of love.