I’m over diaper bags.

Over. Them.

I mean, I still stash one in my car because obviously I still require all those bottles/diapers/wipes/pacifiers/extra clothing/red bull for mommy that must be toted along when a baby is in residence…but I no longer want to be loaded down with a massive bag.

Something about tailored clothing (and especially suits) always makes me feel like an alien, or maybe like a five-year-old with messy hair who's been hanging out in Mommy's closet; it just never has quite the effect I hoped it would, and so I've more or less given up on the look and defaulted to Bohemian (a.k.a. "messy") over the years.

And then I cut my hair. And I'm sure we're all sick of The Haircut Heard 'Round The World (or at least 'Round The RG) by now, but for real: overnight, it made me feel like I wanted to - and maybe even could - wear anything. I loved my long hair, but it always made me feel a little…blowsy. Like if I wore anything even the least bit fancy, it was all a bit too much. And now everything from the neck up feels simple and sporty and not fussy at all, and so it feels a lot easier to play around with what's going on down below.

I have never worn anything even remotely like this before in my life.

I discovered a few exciting things on my trip to Florida.

Stone crab.

The fact that I can wear a string bikini for the first time ever, because apparently having babies not only changes your hair and your skin and, you know, your life, but also changes…well, this situation.

I get a lot of questions about which camera I use. The answer is the Canon T4i, because it's kindergartener-level easy and I am a lazy, lazy photographer, and also because it has excellent video capabilities. But apparently the answer should be "the one that my dad has." It's a silly-fancy DSLR, and we spent yesterday afternoon playing with its rapid-shoot function, and...

oh.

#upgrade.

Considering that I'm a girl who grew up smack in the middle of a whole lot of concrete, it never ceases to surprise me how much beach is apparently sitting there in my blood. I mean, I like a good pair of leather pants and some heels, but if I had to wear flip-flops every single day for the rest of my life that would be just fine by me (and I stand by the assertion that Havianas are one of of mankind's Great Inventions).

What I packed for our four days in Key Largo: "sensible" (for me, anyway; "sensible" is an extremely relative term) bathing suits that I can actually haul around dive tanks in, a pair of nylon shorts that heavily resemble Umbros (remember those?!?!) and that I'm actually rawther into, muscle tees that function as beach cover-ups but that easily go out at night (here, at least) with the addition of a bunch of jewelry…and flip-flops.

There is a pair of leather shorts sitting in my suitcase for our stopover in Miami Beach (where our friend Jeremy is taking us out to a place where I suspect Umbros won't fly), and a hairdryer just in case…but there are few styling tools better than the sun and the sand.