I always thought I was the kind of person who doesn't want anything for my birthday and who would actually prefer there not be a big deal about it. And then this year it happened. And I realized that this is exactly NOT true.
Today is my birthday. And after waking up with Jon three times in the middle of the night, I arose (way too early) to a hungry baby in my bed and two hungry, fighting children in the living room. And no husband. I buzzed about the house like a tornado, feeding children, dressing children, sending children to timeout (multiple times), yelling at children, getting children ready for T-ball, and somehow finding time to dress myself, however poorly (yoga pants, Seahawks hat, yuk).
My husband eventually came home. Apparently he had gone to the gym (gee, how NICE for him to have that luxury). And we ran out the door for Jacob's last Tball game. My husband and I took turns chasing Ryan and entertaining Jon during the game then we all rushed back home, dirty, starving, and tired.
My husband made himself lunch and leisurely ate it at the table. Apparently, he had forgotten that FOUR other people in the house also eat. I tried to keep my deathly dagger stares to myself while I did a load of dirty T-ball clothes, unpacked the diaper bag, put Jon down for a nap, and prepared lunch for two hungry boys. The boys tried to refuse what I had made them. What the hell? It was 2 pm and I hadn't even had a moment to feed MYSELF all day. I hadn't had a single bite to eat. AND IT WAS MY BIRTHDAY!
After lunch, my husband went outside to do chores. Great. It was just me versus the three boys. I took them for a long walk to a fountain park,where I managed their tantrums and their fights. Ryan had a complete meltdown when he saw the fountains. Um DUH. What did he expect to find at a FOUNTAIN PARK. Apparently, sometime between last fall and today he developed a deathly fear of fountains. OK....
Then we stopped for ice cream. Except I had the AUDACITY to take a bite of Ryan's cone. He literally melted to the floor and cried the entire time in the ice cream parlor and the remainder of our bike ride back home.
After a long, drawn out bedtime process, I put the kids to bed. Now I'm sitting on the couch while my husband sits and stares at his computer screen. No card. No cake. No birthday dinner. No little note.
HAPPY. EFFING. BIRTHDAY.