Today’s my birthday. Honestly, with all the hullabaloo lately, I really haven’t thought much about it. No, I mean it. I really haven’t thought much about it. I’ve had Stella’s party, my dad and stepmother in town, work, Felix and his oozing ears (New mom milestone: anyone out there ever see “ear snot?” I can now say that I have.), Will’s birthday, and planning for our upcoming vacation. And I’m not really a “big birthday” kind of girl, anyway.
As I was making breakfast this morning, Will asked me what I wanted to do tonight. I kind of looked at him like he was nuts. We have no child care. Hell, we couldn’t even manage to go out for our anniversary a few weeks ago. We’re just not “night people-“ not anymore. I had planned on figuring out something to cook while I was at the office and that would be that. And maybe some wine. Probably some wine.
All that got me thinking. When did stuff like this become so…..so….pathetic? So old? I mean, sure. I’ve never been an “it’s my birthday so you’d better throw me a party” kind of girl. But Will and I used to do couple stuff all the time. At the very least, we would cook a good meal and get a semi-decent bottle of wine. Light some candles. Etc… You know, sort of romantic. In our old place, we’d even drink brandy in front of the fireplace. Because you know how cold it gets here in south Louisiana….
Now? Like every mom, I usually don’t get to eat warm food with utensils. I’m too busy picking banana off the floor and refilling sippie cups and noyoucannothavecheetosuntilyouvefinishedyourchickenstoptouchingFelix. If I do have wine, it is sometimes in a sippie cup. And candles? Really? Open flame with 2 young kids whirling around?
Things change. I wouldn’t trade my kiddos for anything, although sometimes some alone or grown-up time would be rad. But there’s no use crying over spilt sippie cups. So I think tonight, I won’t cook. We’ll all go out to eat, somewhere family-friendly – someplace with no candles or linen napkins. And that will be ok.
Happy birthday to me.