Happy 21st, Carrley… But Also, Can You Chill?

Okay, wait a minute.
How dare my daughter turn 21 today… while I’m down here in Florida, being all sunshine and sandals, and she’s up there celebrating without me?! Rude. Disrespectful. Honestly, criminal.

Carrley, sweetie, I love you—but you have to stop getting older. Every time you have a birthday, guess what? I age too. And I’m simply not emotionally prepared to be the mom of another 21-year-old grown adult woman. Weren’t you just asking me to cut the crust off your sandwich and watching “Max & Ruby”? Now you’re legally allowed to buy tequila and make questionable Amazon purchases at midnight? I cannot.

But even though I’m missing the big day, I promise you this—we’re about to make up for it big time. You’re flying down on the 5th, and once you land, it’s on. We’ll celebrate your birthday, belated but still bougie, and then on the 12th, we’re seeing Morgan Wallen—which just happens to be Nannie’s birthday too, so we’ll throw a little yeehaw her way as well.

Then, you head back on the 13th (cue the dramatic tears), but girl, we’re going to make that week count. Birthdays, beach days, bops, and probably a few “Are you seriously wearing that?” moments from me.

So happy 21st to my beautiful daughter, my drinking-age bestie, and my forever baby.
Now stop growing up. You’re stressing me out.