80 degrees in January

This past weekend's eighty degree weather made an outdoor jaunt nearly imperative, where only in Southern California could we mosey about in tank tops and breezy skirts in January. A couple of friends were in town for the long weekend, so we decided to bask in the sunshine during a trek over to the flea market. It was a much-missed pastime, particularly since I hadn't been there since my second trimester. Serene usually naps whenever she is in her car seat/stroller, so I expected her to snooze the whole time we'd be perusing the wares. She woke up within five minutes of our arrival instead, and promptly decided not to miss out on her very first outing to the flea market by declaring war on her stroller. I chastised myself for forgetting to pack my sling as my arms got exponentially buffer while Serene, nestled contentedly in my arms, seemed mesmerized by all the vintage goodies (perhaps a foreshadowing of her preference for things time-honored, too?). However, the sun's rays were blazing, none of us had sunscreen, and shady spots were lacking, all of which contributed to the trip's unforeseen brevity. New mamahood lessons learned that afternoon: expect the baby to do what she customarily does and she will do the exact opposite to humble you, and overpack the diaper bag as if you're going to be away ten times as long as anticipated. Or ditch the last two lessons and have Alex watch the baby for a spell the next time I'm rummaging in the sun.