And well… I feel about a day or two older than I was yesterday and the day before. Birthday madness is a thing of the past after 25, I think. Typically I’ll have a little fun something with just my immediate family or just Brent, then my whole family: parents, brother’s family, etc, and then a girl’s night – and typically spread over a birthday week. Birthdays have always been a big deal. I have a mom who is super glad about celebrating birthdays. Admittedly it gets old hearing the story of my birth every single year. I was rear-first breach. I was huge. I was ultimately a c-section and that meant for one gorgeous, perfectly round noggin. The nurses called me “Pebbles” in the hospital because I guess I looked like a Flintstone and “Pebbles” is nicer than “Barney Rubble” for a new baby girl. Who knows.
Last year’s big 30th was to be a great-big deal with a bowling party including a bunch of friends at Red Pin – a little trendy bowling alley downtown. That was a bust all together having my oldest in the hospital with pneumonia. So, 30 floated right past without as much as a blink. That’s no complaint. I didn’t really have to feel the weight of a new decade having never celebrated. But this year, even being asked what I might like to do, what I might want, or what sounded like fun – I was all “Uhhh… duhh… uhh...” – because I’m either one-big-thing-at-a-time or I’m a million-miles-a-minute unable to really get a grip.
So, with the latest upcoming events, I’ve been preparing all baby things, not birthday things and have gotten myself on a Christmas kick. It dawned on me – I like to put Christmas up the day after Thanksgiving. That’s 10 days post-giant-abdominal surgery!! Maybe I’ll just be directing from the couch this year. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want each of my children to have a new stocking with their name monogrammed to be a keep-sake… or that I don’t want to be making paper-mâché giant pieces of candy… or knitting hats… or putting together advent calendar items. I ordered these. They're not in yet. But having a baby who'll have her first Christmas at 6-weeks-old, her stocking sort of dictated the need for the others to match.
And so, this birthday was nice and simple. I was blasted awake with three dudes singing “Happy Birthday” (each in their own key, at their own pace and volume). Brent set fire to several cupcakes and had gotten a pretty funny card with some earrings. And then I was vacuuming crumbs off the kitchen floor by 7:30am. Nice. We thought we might have dinner together Tuesday night and I went to hug my littlest dude and he was BOILING with 102 fever. Clearly we went nowhere. And now it’s just any other day. I think this means I’m a real grown-up. I’ll always like to jump on the bed though… not eight-and-a-half months pregnant, people chill out. Wait… that might not be a bad idea.
Last year’s big 30th was to be a great-big deal with a bowling party including a bunch of friends at Red Pin – a little trendy bowling alley downtown. That was a bust all together having my oldest in the hospital with pneumonia. So, 30 floated right past without as much as a blink. That’s no complaint. I didn’t really have to feel the weight of a new decade having never celebrated. But this year, even being asked what I might like to do, what I might want, or what sounded like fun – I was all “Uhhh… duhh… uhh...” – because I’m either one-big-thing-at-a-time or I’m a million-miles-a-minute unable to really get a grip.
So, with the latest upcoming events, I’ve been preparing all baby things, not birthday things and have gotten myself on a Christmas kick. It dawned on me – I like to put Christmas up the day after Thanksgiving. That’s 10 days post-giant-abdominal surgery!! Maybe I’ll just be directing from the couch this year. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want each of my children to have a new stocking with their name monogrammed to be a keep-sake… or that I don’t want to be making paper-mâché giant pieces of candy… or knitting hats… or putting together advent calendar items. I ordered these. They're not in yet. But having a baby who'll have her first Christmas at 6-weeks-old, her stocking sort of dictated the need for the others to match.
And so, this birthday was nice and simple. I was blasted awake with three dudes singing “Happy Birthday” (each in their own key, at their own pace and volume). Brent set fire to several cupcakes and had gotten a pretty funny card with some earrings. And then I was vacuuming crumbs off the kitchen floor by 7:30am. Nice. We thought we might have dinner together Tuesday night and I went to hug my littlest dude and he was BOILING with 102 fever. Clearly we went nowhere. And now it’s just any other day. I think this means I’m a real grown-up. I’ll always like to jump on the bed though… not eight-and-a-half months pregnant, people chill out. Wait… that might not be a bad idea.
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