Hi, Girlfriends and Guy Friends,I’m still grinning. A few weeks ago, my son Sean and his wife Mira traveled from Philadelphia to spend five days with us. We had a blast. Sean and Mira stayed in Tucson at a boutique style hotel named Lodge of the Desert since our coach only sleeps two people.But here is the weird thing. I look at Sean and cannot believe my eyes. How did he get to be all grown up? AND married? And how did I get an awesome daughter-in-law named Mira? Who’d a thunk it?My thought processes twirled this mystery like spaghetti on a fork.For example, I recall that moment when I taught Sean how to use a checkbook, and now he teaches me how to make international phone calls on “What’s Ap”. Our conversations used to revolve around college courses he was enrolled in and now we discuss world events and recipes for Lamb in our Instapots. It seems like last month when I used to drive him to his baseball games and violin lessons, and now he and his wife drive a rental car to meet us for dinner. Back in his youth, I’d pick up the check at the end of the meal, and now, the waiter delivers it to him? More spaghetti twirls…Being a mom is a humbling experience. You bring a new life into the world and the next thing you know they come and visit you for their vacation. Here’s what we did. We drove them to the WINDY and chilly summit of Mt. Lemon-We lunched at The Iron Door-We viewed quirky art at the Ted DeGrazia Gallery-Dined on Vivace’s terrace with The Catalina Mountains as our backdrop-We inbibed craft cocktails at 47 Scott and Scott Company Bar-Hiked to the summit of Mt. Wrightson-Yup, more eating… this time at El Charro’s-And shared talks of dog ownership while getting licked by a silly Cockapoo named Penny-As the title to my blog implies, I learned two things from Sean and Mira’s visit. The first one is that “Happiness” is a side-effect. It’s a natural consequence- and in this case of a visit well done. You can’t strive for Happiness…it just happens…And the smile on my face reflects this.The second thing I learned is a bit more subtle- or perhaps more of a resignation… My spaghetti brain will always twirl as I interact with my adult son- because once upon a time he was an infant in my arms. And that’s ok, cuz, I am a mom. His mom. And I embrace the twirl. Who’d a thunk it?