Friday, July 22, 2011
I'm spent. This little lady is plum birthday-ed out. Now the festivities are over I must look forward to my thirty and fifth year with faith, hope, trust and a little bit of pixie dust.
Birthdays make me sorta sad. I get so excited for the day to arrive. There are gifts and cakes and friends and well wishes. Then it's over. And I'm a whole number bigger.
When the elliptical machine asked for me age this morning I wanted to lie. I almost did. I might in the future... Yes. I believe I will. That machine has NO BUSINESS asking me how old I am, for Pete's sake!
For the sake of posterity I will divulge the activities of the day.
July 21, 2011 started like any other summer day for me.
I lay in bed at 10 am listening to my smallest children beat one another into oblivion. They like to abuse each other physically in my presence. They did so today on my bed until I opened one bleary eye and mumbled, "gotcha bhuyge gee notvh...early...".
"Mom's awake!" they shrieked.
The Others came a runnin'.
"Happy birthday!" they shouted in unison.
The four of them climbed into bed with me. There was a dispute as to who would snuggle to my right (Serena) and who would command the left (Bella). The smaller ones took refuge on my abdomen. Oxygen is overrated.
The eldest child brought forth my laptop and I was forced to watch various video logs of one GLOZEL Of The Most Irritating Vlog known to man or beast. I laughed in spite of myself.
I eventually stumbled to my vanity and found a lovely bouquet of roses arranged by Mr. Pistol. He had also arranged for me to get a full body massage at a local spa.
I love a good massage. Boy oh boy! Do I ever.
I find it strange though that in public I guard myself carefully against the untoward touch of strangers. I jump involuntarily if a man accidentally brushes my elbow. Yet, I allow a woman I have never met to knead most every inch of my body in a dimly lit cave of a room with no adult supervision.
Not to worry. She was not untoward. She was...toward... Quite toward. I will return.
I arrived back at home feeling relaxed and disheveled. A good, deep massage will do that to a person.
I was bombarded by excited little ones. They placed a crown upon my head and led me into my room with the insistence I keep my eyes closed.
Mr. Pistol had gifted me with a lovely jewelry chest replete with drawers and secret compartments blanketed in velvet.. I've always coveted those with lovely jewelry chests with secret compartments.. I am now a proud owner. My previously jumbled baubles have an organized home to call their own.
Do you SEE the circumference of my man's arm?! YEEEOWZA! SWEET BABY BOTTOM! BREAK ME OFF A PIECE OF THAT! MEEEOOW! GRRRR... RUFF RUFF... GROWL...SNARL... Oh my... pardon me. I got a bit carried away there. Good grief, girl. Get a room.
I plan on it.
A kiss for my hero.
Crystal and Mister SITTIN IN A TREE! K-I-S-S-I-N-G! FIRST COMES LOVE, THEN COMES MARRIAGE THEN COMES 4 BABIES AND A BIG HUGE MORTGAGE.
My tiny ones were uber amped to give me their gifts.
Serena made me a paper chain necklace with original silly song lyrics she had written on every loop. That daughter of mine has THE BEST sense of humor. I proceeded to thank her by accidentally spraying her in the eye with a new perfume (also a gift from my big, strong man).
I laughed at my blunder. She cried for the sting.
Bella wrote me the sweetest note ever written by a 10 year old since the beginning of time. My baby is a genius! She'll rule the world when the time comes.
Tyson gave me a plastic beetle he found in the toy box, a rock from the yard and one of his sister's headbands. He wrapped the gifts in toilet paper.
Maya gave me a framed picture of herself she found displayed in the living room, a nugget of fool's gold, a headband from under her sink and a hug. She also made me a ring out of string and wadded up paper. It fell apart on contact. She cried a little.
After all the gifts had been opened I changed into a dinner outfit that might cover my shoulders in order to look like the decent Mormon Mommy I strive to become.
Dinner at The Cheesecake Factory was divine. We ate until vertigo. I wore my new accessories at the request of my children.
The waiters sang to me. They were embarrassed for themselves. I had to chuckle, as I was the one wearing a paper necklace and a cardboard crown.
So that's it. Now I'm 35. Officially.
Time to live it up. I like this whole living business. It keeps me young.