Happy Mother’s Day, Mama.

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Living in Melbourne and being 16 hours ahead of Miami time means I can’t call my mom whenever I want to. Like, say, when I lived in New York and called her on my walk to and from work, on my lunch break, or any time I had a story. I use to call my mom for everything, that was our thing. “Should I wash my hair tonight or can I make it one more day?”, “What should I cook for dinner?”, “Should I take both advil and midol?”, but most of the time the conversation went something like “When you come visit we have to go to INSERT RESTAURANT NAME because it was INSERT EXPERIENCE. You are going to flip.” Not wanting to wake my mom up at 4am after having a scrumptious, fun, and excruciatingly delicious meal here in Australia I started writing my experiences down and saving them so maybe, one day, she could read them. A few weeks later this blog was born.

So thank you for being the kind of mom I want to and can share everything with.

I love you so very much, mama.

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