You know how, in the past, I have taken to Twitter after ingesting my Ambien? Well, I haven’t done much of that lately.
Mostly, I’ve been sleep-eating. I think. I woke one morning, not long ago, to find a plate on my nightstand which had clearly held nachos.
But, the last two mornings it appears that I have been spending my evenings grooming myself. Yesterday, all of the toes on my left foot were purple and this morning, I woke to this…
Let’s hope I stay away from the eyebrow wax.
I really wasn’t all that thrilled about turning 40 yesterday. I blame my lack of enthusiasm on my compression stockings. There is something about tight hose with a reinforced heel that makes you feel like you have one foot in the grave.
But, as it turned out, I had a pretty fabulous day.
There was the sun on my face, softball and baseball games, icy cold drinks made with blueberry vodka, lots of laughs and immense generosity of good friends who offered their home for a get-together.
There were more good friends who brought me food, flowers, gifts and their incredible company and a birthday card from my 12 year old that said, “Thank you for all you have given me. I’m really lucky to have you as my mom. P.S. Count your blessings, not your candles.”
I love that kid.
Hands down, though, my favorite thing was the cake my husband had made for me. This is my reaction when I saw it.
Which, ironically, is the same face that was looking back at me.
Of course, those good friends I was talking about took the liberty of sticking a toothpick in my teeth and though you can’t see it, someone added a green sprinkle that made it look like I had a booger.
The kids had fun eating my eyeballs and nostrils and my son even offered to put his own booger on the cake. He has a heart of gold, that one.
All I know is that I had as close to a perfect day that a girl can have. It fed my soul in every way and if it’s indicative of what to expect in my 40’s, then bring them on.
Reinforced heels and all.
If you want a chance to have the best day ever, don’t forget to enter to win a $100 gift card to Dick’s Sporting goods courtesy of BlogHer and Gatorade Moms! Click here for details!
Tomorrow is your birthday. It’s hard for me to wrap my head around the fact that you’ve been in my life for less than a decade, because it feels like you’ve been around forever. Most people say that they can’t believe how time flies, but with you things tend to move at a slower pace.
We have been through a lot together, you and I. I won’t lie; you’re the reason I have an intimate relationship with anti-anxiety meds and sleep aides. You are the reason I throw my hands in the air on a daily basis, look up and say, “Lord, have mercy on me.”
I had a hard time learning to love you. I was scared to love you. I didn’t think you were going to stick around very long and I didn’t want to get hurt. I’m glad I let my guard down. It was the best thing I ever did and I learned that, when in doubt, you should follow your heart.
You bring adventure to my life because I never know what you’re going to say or what you’re going to do. Even when we’re out running errands together, I feel like I’m living on the edge. At least I never have to worry about life being dull.
But, I don’t just love you because you keep me on my toes. I love you because you are strong, smart, funny and so stinkin’ cute. I love that you aren’t perfect, because it reminds me that no one is.
Happy 9th birthday, Boo. Mommy loves you.
While a lot of our friends are off enjoying Florida sunshine for Spring Break, my family is planted firmly in Ohio…well, as firmly as one can plant thyself when it’s raining two inches a day.
We have been using this time to catch up on doctor’s appointments and accomplish some much needed tasks around the house. You have beaches and sand? We have waiting rooms and window cleaning. So there!
Yesterday, my 12 year old daughter stumbled out of bed and declared, “We should tear out the living room carpet today.”
And because all 12 year old, sleep-deprived kids make rational declarations, I agreed.
We have been wanting to tear up the wall-to-wall carpet for years. We had it installed in 1998, before we bought our first puppy and before we had our first child. At that time it was a very light, off-white color. Because, apparently, new homeowners in their late 20’s are pretty rational too.
By the time our son was born in 2002, the carpet was looking pretty bad despite bi-annual cleaning. When our boy, the one known as Mr. Reflux, started crawling, small spots would appear everywhere from his constant battles with stomach contents. It wasn’t pretty, people.
So, yesterday, I took the advice of the 12 year old, grabbed a crowbar, pliers (oh my, the staples!), work gloves and a box cutter and went to work on our 13′ x 23′ living room carpet.
I knew there would be spots of paint on the hardwood, because when we renovated the house we painted the ceilings last and by that time we were pretty sloppy and just wanted to be done. But, despite the paint, I was pretty happy with the condition of the floor.
We started in one corner and by the time we reached the opposite corner of the room nearly six hours later, we were exhausted. My arm was so tired from slicing the carpet into strips for the trash men to take that I could barely grip anything, but we saw the light at the end of the tunnel and fought through the pain in our hands, knees and backs.
Until we tore up the last piece of carpet to find this.
And, suddenly, we weren’t seeing the light at the end of the tunnel, but rather the light from the basement laundry room.
I think this looks like a good place for a plant…don’t you?
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