June 29 2009
As part of my birthday gift, J and I went out to dinner. Alone. As in, without the kids. I know this doesn’t sound like a big deal, but trust me. This never happens. There has been at least one child continually attached to my hip for the past 5 years. And because I was taking advantage of this interval possibly a little too much, I overstuffed myself into a plump round mass. Although I believe it was the dessert that finally did me in. It was a novel concept; the fact that I could actually EAT MY FOOD.
I figured we could take this time for conversation. We could talk at length about our days without interruption. On a topic that didn’t have to be child related or what we need from the grocery store. We could look longingly at each other, gazing into one another’s eyes. Whisper sweet nothings across the table.
Instead, we played an aggressive IPhone game of who can SHOOT and KILL the other first.
How romantic.
June 26 2009
If I didn’t know better, I would swear the whisker on my chin is playing a game of cat and mouse. I keep trying to pluck it and it is ever more elusive.
A whisker. On my chin. Combined with the overpopulation of white streaks staging a revolution on my head of hair, I am nothing if not attractive.
Welcome to your 30′s.
Tomorrow is my birthday. My plans are extraordinarily simple and willing to change. Breakfast with my mother and Abby. A nice dinner. A cake, of course, with enough candles to burn down the house. A visit to a salon for a complete frizz overhaul (JUST SHAVE IT BALD). Apparently, boring is the new little black dress.
Ten years ago, at the threshold of my 20′s, I could never have imagined where I would be right now. The family I would have. Here’s to hoping the next 10 years bring even more wonderful surprises (albeit of a quieter, gentler variety).
June 12 2009
Originally posted June 28, 2007 on a previous wordpress.com hosted blog.
A participant in Flashback Friday.
I woke up yesterday wanting birthday cake. Although, I also went to bed that night wanting cake. To be honest, I always want cake. 8 o’clock in the morning I want cake. In the middle of dinner I want cake. While mopping the kitchen floor I’m thinking how lovely a piece of cake would be.
One cannot live on cake alone, but I would sure be willing to try. I’d have my cake and eat it, too.
This is probably why we never keep cake in the house. I have a feeling that with all that cake, I would get one monster of a migraine. Or upset stomach, at the very least. It’s a wonderful idea, though, and sounds like a picture perfect version of heaven. Every meal consisting of cake. Chocolate cake. Carrot cake, which might be more feasible since it’s a vegetable. Although, does the vegetable count if it’s in a cake with mounds of cream cheese frosting?
When Jedi got up that morning, he ran into the living room where I was already feeding Buzz breakfast. “It’s your birthday!”, he informed me excitedly, “but where’s your birthday streamers?” “Mommy doesn’t get those.”, I replied. “Where’s your birthday cake?”, he asked, probably thinking Mommy’s really getting jipped on this birthday deal. “Mommy doesn’t get that, either.”, I said sadly. “You might get the birthday cake”, J. reassured, “just wait until tonight.”
So I waited. And waited. Anticipation lurking in the air.
Right when I thought I couldn’t wait any longer, he was home. WITH CAKE! Chocolate cake. Delicious cake. I now have enough cake to last for days.
He also brought flowers, which are beautiful and wonderful. But nothing says I love you so much that not only do I not mind if you gain 10 extra pounds, but here, let me help with that, oh, and Happy Birthday, quite like cake.
June 11 2009
I have a birthday coming up at the end of the month. It’s the one that seems to send some women weeping into a tub of Ben & Jerry’s Super Fudge Chunk ice cream. I’ll be 30 on June 27th. It wasn’t a big deal to me, though. Age is nothing but a number, or something else equally profoundly inane. I was fine with it. Until I held the following conversation with my mother:
Me: Do you know what’s coming up at the end of the month?
Mom: I don’t want to hear about it!
Me: You don’t want to hear about MY birthday?
Mom: No!
Me: Why?
Mom: Because it makes ME feel OLD!
Thanks, Mom.
This coming from a woman who could swear I was turning 28 this year. When I corrected her, she let out a louder than necessary gasp. “You’re gonna be 30?!” Really, Mom. Thank you.
I'm Crystal. A 30-something mom to 3 young kids living in the Midwest USA. When I'm not chasing my children, I'm a freelance writer and web designer. I like to tell stories from our days and share what we enjoy...
