Despite absolutely LOVING my birthday, and thinking it is one of the very best days of the year, they don't always go quite as smoothly as I'd like.
For example, this was the text I sent to Mike mid-day today:
"I'm not blaming you, or expecting you to do anything about it. I'm merely telling you for your enjoyment and/or pity... Drew decided to smash tomatoes on the tile floor today, both boys were very naughty and ran laps around the shoe store I was just at, and now I'm taking them to the store to buy groceries for my own birthday dinner. Go ahead and laugh. I'm trying to, otherwise I will surely start crying."
This is the text I wanted to send but refrained.
"This birthday stinks. I'm mad that the pair of shoes you and Megan picked out don't fit, due in large part to your lackadaisical attitude towards my correct shoe size, and your rumored comment that said, "Just get them. They'll fit her just fine." Also, I'm mad that our son decided today would be a good day to retrieve tomatoes from the bowl and the potato masher from the drawer and have them come together on my tile floor. Furthermore, I'm not happy that when I tried to exchange the shoes, the store didn't have the shoes I wanted in my right size. I am trying to believe both you and Megan that they really didn't have a size 8 when you chose to get the other ones that will "fit me just fine" as opposed to my belief that really you just wanted a more timely departure from the store. Therefore, in the vain and determined attempt to get a new pair of shoes on my birthday, I had to drag two little boys who were full of a little too much energy (thus the aforementioned tomatoes) into a small shoe shop that you would never be caught dead in. The boys ran laps and very nearly knocked over a tall shoe display. The worker thought they were just darling (???) and I was almost willing to offer a trade; shoes for boys. I didn't. Instead after the shoe store I dragged the two boys to the grocery store to buy groceries for my own birthday dinner. I don't think I even need to say anymore about that sentence. I hope it doesn't happen again: the size 9 shoes (they will never fit me. I'm a size 8, unless it is high heels then an 81/2), the tomatoes on my tile floor (although if it isn't my birthday it may not make me as mad), and most certainly I hope I never, I repeat never, have to go the grocery store on my birthday for my own birthday meal."
But then I see my dear husband over in the kitchen preparing dinner that I don't have to lift a finger for (except of course for the grocery purchasing part), after he recently walked through the back door with a bouquet of flowers. I really shouldn't complain.
Which I really am not. I promise.
It is all just part of life when you're an adult on your birthday.
Nonetheless, Happy Birthday to me still.
Oh, and I can't forget that Megan got completely carried away on close-up pictures of me. I kept asking her NOT to use the zoom feature quite so much, but perhaps she wanted to accentuate those 38 year old wrinkles?
Oh and of course I must talk about the birthday hat. I wore the hat all afternoon and evening. I even wore it while driving a few miles to pick Luke up from somewhere, I was sort of hoping someone would honk and wave at me upon seeing me wear a birthday hat. I sat through at least 4 red lights and nary a person honked and recognized my birthday. I also continued to wear it during the presidential debate, even though it seemed every time I re-positioned myself I'd hear, "Tiffany, I can't see through that hat." (The hat comments started out polite, but got a little less polite as the 90 minutes passed.)
Oh and big news in the "cake" department. This year I opted for a Rice Krispie treat "cake" instead of my usual request for chocolate cake. I didn't regret it one bit. Megan certainly knows how to make Rice Krispie treats.