Learning to like Vegas

I sat outside on the bench playing with Dean on my lap and watching Eva and Leighton running around. They picked flowers from a nearby flower pot for me, forgetting that some flowers are not for picking. I told them not to pick anymore, but I was secretly pleased with their stolen gift. The music speaker was just behind us, playing upbeat songs, and I danced Dean and kissed him to the beat. He laughed and grinned his big smile that shows such pure joy it makes my heart stop every time. (I do have a heart condition, you know, so it's dangerous to see that smile too many times in a day.)

As we sat out, basking in the sunshine and the blissfully perfect weather, it hit me: I like it here. I like Las Vegas. I like having springtime weather in January. I like this very moment, at this very mall, waiting for my mother-in-law outside a darling children's boutique. (Where, I can't resist sharing, she got this and these for Eva's birthday! Cutest suit I've ever laid eyes on in my life. She'll be a little Audrey Hepburn at the pool.)

It was a landmark realization. Because although I knew I didn't mind it here and it wasn't as bad as it used to be, at some point I turned a corner and started being happy here. I'm not exactly sure when it happened. But this is big for me.

My tune may very well change come summertime. I told my mother-in-law that I think I have Seasonal Affective Disorder, except in the summer. I detest the heat. (Maybe a cute swimsuit of my own would help?) But for now, I'm so glad to know I have finally really settled in to my life here.

Life is so very good. Even in Sin City.