The Birthday that Almost Wasn't...

QUOTE OF THE DAY: “I can’t believe it. They @$%&*!! forgot my birthday!”—Molly Ringwald, Sixteen Candles

That was almost me yesterday. Instead of waking up to a chorus of “Happy Birthdays” from my kids and husband, I was greeted with: “The kids get the garbage out yet honey? Make sure they do it this time.” Shocked, I rose up and dressed, took the dog to the bathroom, got the garbage out (only because all three Things were still open-mouth asleep in their beds) packed hubby’s lunch, folded a pile of laundry, emptied the dishwasher and got breakfast, and still not a whiff of “Happy Birthday.”

Everyone ate breakfast, without a word. I started to get angry. They had forgotten my birthday! What should I do? Spontaneously burst into tears? Start slamming things down and when they ask what’s wrong—tell them? Of course during my deliberations the phone rang and it was my mother, singing Happy Birthday and I told her I had to go, I was so upset. (sorry Mom, but it was kinda rotten timing.)

Anyway, I was fit to be tied. Tied, I tell you. I shooed the kids upstairs to get dressed, and hubby leaned in towards me as he went out the garage door and whispered “and don’t worry, we haven’t forgotten your birthday, we just want to surprise you!”

I was taken aback. What? That, to me, was weird. Why all the secrecy? I immediately suspected (being the full-blown cynic that I am) that hubby had actually forgotten the birthday, remembered it while brushing his teeth, and hurriedly told the kids to act normal so he could tell me that it was all just a big “secret.”

Am I horrible or what? Of course at night, Hubby redeemed himself with lots of gifts--he even got me an icecream cake, which I like FAR better than regular cakes. We went out to dinner with the kids, and it was a great night.

SO, everything worked out (don’t worry mom—she called me several times to make sure I wasn’t off sulking) and it was a good day after all.

Now, it’s back to reality, and speaking of “back”, my muse paid me a visit this morning, because when my puppy wanted to go potty at 5:30, I got inspired after he went and had to run to the computer and type out an ending paragraph to my chapter. I had the heroine mad at her brother for one reason or another, but they let me know that it was an “affectionate anger” and she wasn’t really that mad. They are very close, those two. So I had to clarify their relationship.

In other news, my Thing Three (who is four) is quite the Casanova of his preschool class, apparently. I was a parent helper there yesterday, and all the girls were battling for his attentions. He was just sitting back, basking in it. Sheesh, I think we’re going to have problems with him when we’re older...he's just like his father, that one.

Lastly, apparently my Cavalier has good taste: he very nearly chewed up a pair of my Weitzmans yesterday. OF COURSE he bypassed the Keds, the Sartos and the Bandolinos. He went straight for the BIG TIME, the little sh*t. Lucky for him I adore him. URGH.

Here's hoping today is a good day!