Yesterday was my birthday. On Mother’s Day. You may think, Cool! Extra special day! But I think boo. I only get ONE day!
But really, it’s all good. I’ve learned that after you have kids, your birthday doesn’t really matter a whole lot anymore. My life is no longer just about me – it’s about them (and that dude that lives with us). And they look forward to their birthdays a lot more than I look forward to mine.
I’ve never freaked out about being another year older. I’ve always looked forward to my birthday. Not with the anticipation that I did before I had kids, but with anticipation none the less. Although, after I had Kaylie, I thought Maybe this year I’ll actually LOOK old enough to be a mom! But nope, I still get strange looks when people find out that I have a 7-year-old. I guess that’s what happens when you’re dumb enough to get pregnant in your senior year of high school.
Anyway, this year, for some strange reason, I have a problem with turning another year older. For some reason 26 just seems old. It’s like I’m actually supposed to be an adult now or something. (Because being married and having two kids didn’t do that to me yet.) It’s funny though, because for other people, when they turn another year older, they don’t seem old to me. Like when Russ turned 50, I didn’t think he was actually old enough to be 50. (This is why I’m his favorite daughter-in-law.) And I have a close friend who happens to be 18 years older than me. I hardly notice. (Hi Ann!) (Whoops! I just gave her away.)
So I decided that I’m just going to stay 25. I’m still allowed to claim immaturity and irresponsibility if I stay 25, right? Because 25 is closer to 20 than 26 is. 26 means that in four years I’ll be 30. I’m just not old enough to be four years away from being 30. It’s just not right. If you’ve met me in real life, you’ll know that I act way more like a 20-year-old than a four-years-away-from-being-a-30-year-old. It’s sad but true.
To my point. My day. My little family treated me well. Noah slept in and let me get the girls ready for church by myself. I took them to the 8:30am service (I had to be in the toddler nursery) while Noah relaxed at home by himself. He met me for the 10:00am service. (Just to be fair, I purposely didn’t wake him up. He works all night and needed the extra couple hours of sleep.)
We had leftover homemade pizza for lunch, but in the afternoon Kaylie and Noah made me a cake while Liliana napped. And I got to open my gifts. And I got a phone call from every member of my family, in-laws too, except Nick. But I got a sweet card in the mail from his wife, so he’s forgiven. And he DID write on my Facebook wall so that counts, right? (What’s a little brother for if I can’t humiliate him on my blog?!)
Also while Liliana napped, Kaylie and I hit up Old Navy with a gift card that I’d opened half an hour earlier. (I have no patience and I like shopping. Sue me.) I found these little gems for $3 as I was checking out. I wasn’t going to get the girls anything, since their closet is way fuller than mine, but I couldn’t resist their cheesy luster.
They say “MOM” on the palm and “#1 fan” on the pointer finger. Classic. Also, Liliana may or may not have “schwee butter” (peanut butter) on her shirt.
As I write this, I’m having a perfect end to a perfect day. The kids are in bed, Noah’s at work, and I’m sitting on the couch, with a big piece of chocolate birthday cake beside me, writing this here blog while watching Survivor with subtitles. (But for the record, I’d rather have my husband here. The thing is though, he hates subtitles. But if I had to choose between him and the subtitles, I’d choose
the subtitles him.)
All in all, I had a great weekend with my little family and I’m looking forward to my day off tomorrow. I didn’t do a lick of anything today, so I have my work cut out for me tomorrow. Right after Liliana and I head out to the park in the beautiful morning sun.