Summer. As it should be.

I'd like to think that I'm not a complete perfectionist. If I were, my house would have to remain miraculously clean (and it's not), I'd head to the gym seven days a week (and I don't), and prepare delicious home-cooked meals without batting an eye (which, we know, I can't).

Perfectionist I may not be, but I sure do love a perfect moment.

And my goodness, over this past week we had many.



All thanks to these two amazing individuals (Philip's parents).



These two parents that decided to celebrate their fiftieth anniversary by bringing their entire family to enjoy a Western Caribbean cruise. Fifty years. We should all be so fortunate.



Perfection came in innumerable forms this week. Like little ones discovering the feel of sand at their feet and tasting in that sensational mix of sweat, sunscreen, and the salty, ocean water.



And having little conversations with his momma about why we must wear our floppy hat and, no, it is not because you are the most precious tot on the beach with baby lobsters on your head, but because it is protecting that little face from too much sun.



Sandcastles and bucket splashes on the beaches of Cozumel and Isle Roatan.



Our room wasn't quite large enough for Jacob's unending bouts of energy so off we would head to the decks after dinner to let the little man do his thing. Up and down the aisles, always remembering to flash a cheesy smile to his momma.



Perfection was laying out doing absolutely nothing.... taking in glances of the younger twenty-something year-olds throwing back beers and dancing to the music of Rihanna and Lady Gaga and momentarily remembering what it was like to be in that phase of my life and concluding that no way, no how, would I ever go back. A few girls nights here and there to kick back and dance like I danced in my younger twenty-something years, perhaps. But I'm perfectly content with my twenty-eight year old momma status.



And how could I not be with this perfectly content little boy?



Who was only ever-so-slightly upset that the bucket on the cruise carrying Daddy's and Uncle Dan's beers did not hold the same warm water that his momma put in his bucket at home. Hello, icy coldness.



And hello, baby wading pool. That was unfortunately only discovered on the last day of our cruise.



A perfectly painted Aztec man. And one not-so-happy baby... but who could really blame him?



As the two littlest travelers played on the beach, memories of last summer's beach fun surfaced.... days where they could barely sit up on their own, nonetheless frolic (yes, they frolicked) on the beach.







Perfection in kicking back and soaking in the sun.



For looking at one person and realizing that they made all of your dreams come true.



Particularly dreams about families. Creating families....



and joining families...





And when you absolutely can't possibly do anything else, taking a baby siesta right in the midst of it all.



But always ready for more exploration... and on this day, the littles discovered the streets of Belize.





Perfection is not really about how orderly things are or appropriately meeting some unspoken high standard. No, perfection most often is achieved at times when you don't quite even realize it.

In a family. My family. And it's not that we are a perfect family... but this moment, when nothing else mattered except for standing close to two of the most important people in my life... that was perfection.









What an awesome, awesome feeling.



It's not every day that twenty-one individuals have the opportunity to travel outside the country and enjoy life. Life, just as it should be.



Because whether we are vacationing or packing up or settling back at home, these are the moments we want to remember fifty years from now.