So this is it. The last year I have before I move up to the "35 and over" check box on medical and government forms. So how did I celebrate you ask? Well I started by NOT setting my alarm the night before. Crazy I know. In my defense my birthday was on a Saturday so I knew I could sleep in if only just a little bit...
6:20 AM: "MOOOOOOOOMMMMMMMMMYYYYYYYY I HAVE TO POOOOOOOOOOOOOP!!!!" the little voice wails out from the foot of my bed.
"Just go in Mommy's bathroom and let me know when you're done," I mumble back thinking this would give me just a few seconds more of sleep.
But the sounds that came next....oh the sounds. I'll spare you the details but it was enough for me to know that I had absolutely no chance of catching another instant of sleep.
I rolled my pregnant belly over and began crawling out of the bed.
SIDENOTE: I have reached the stage of pregnancy where getting out of bed involves all sorts of pushing, pulling, twisting, and grunting. It most always causes shortness of breath and due to a misaligned pelvis is one of the most painful things I have ever experienced.
I glance back at my peacefully sleeping husband who is still snoring a little, haul myself onto the floor in an orca-like fashion, take a deep breath and enter the bathroom.
7:30 AM: RJ comes running in with a brightly colored envelope yelling "HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOMMY!!"
I take note that the hubs actually remembered to get a card for the kids to give me this year and am slightly impressed. That is, until I open it.
It only takes me a second to realize that this is a stepmom card (a very sweet one yet still a stepmom card). I thank her and give her a huge hug stifling my laughter. I decide not to mention it to anyone in the family lest I make them feel bad.
7:35 AM: I cook an amazing bacon and eggs breakfast and force the family to sit down for "Family Breakfast." This only lasts about 3 minutes before both kids are whining and crying and we finally release them from the torturous experience that is "Family Breakfast."
9:30 AM: I drop DC off at Daddy's work so that I can take RJ to a gymnastics birthday party. She keeps asking if it is MY birthday party that we are going to. I try to explain to her that I am not having a birthday party and that adults don't always get birthday parties. She is mystified.
12:00 PM: I rendezvous with my parents (who have picked up DC from Daddy's work) at Chick Fil A. Unbeknownst to me my mother has picked up a Boston Cream Cake complete with a singing candle and has brought me a birthday present. They all sing Happy Birthday to me as the rest of the restaurant stares at the 34 year old in the corner having a birthday celebration in Chick Fil A.
RJ is convinced this is my party.
The rest of the afternoon goes by just like every other Saturday. Hubby still at work, naps, sibling fights, dog poop on the floor, and doing laundry. I realize that this is it. This is my life. And for now, this is the best it's gonna get.
Now that might sound cynical off the cuff but I wouldn't have it any other way. I embrace my chaos. My children and my stories (crazy as they are) are what define me now. I never saw this coming but here I am and I'm in the thick of it.
5:30 PM: The hubs comes home and presents me with another amazing, heartfelt card and a gift.
I will say that evening I did get a little taste of adult time when the hubs blew me away with a hot date (I am making him an appointment for an MRI because he clearly has a brain tumor but we'll save that for a day that's NOT my birthday).
First of all my present. This is probably now my most prized possession and I can think of nothing that embodies me more. I found this amazing girl on etsy (my new obsession) that can take children's artwork and put it onto jewelry. So I took a picture that RJ drew of me holding her and DC's hands and had it made into a necklace.
[Here's a link to her shop if you're interested. https://www.etsy.com/listing/150784109/child-artwork-bracelet?ref=sr_gallery_32&ga_search_query=children+artwork+jewelry&ga_view_type=gallery&ga_ship_to=US&ga_search_type=all]
He had also driven down to the restaurant ahead of time and had a card and a bottle of wine waiting at our table when we got there.
Now you're thinking "Why would he have taken a special bottle of wine when you're pregnant and can't drink?"
Well, he has taken up the hobby of "brewing" his own wine (do you brew wine? make wine? I'm not sure what the correct terminology is for this) in our hall closet. Now this is another story for another time but I will give you the tasty little tidbit that now ALL of our winter jackets smell like fermented yeast.
Apparently he has been working on a special batch for months and months (possibly even before we knew I was pregnant) to give to me for my birthday. So although he was the only one that got to partake in the first bottle of "Lauren's Reserve" there are 30 bottles waiting for that glorious day in May when baby #3 makes its way into the world. (And maybe they'll even last me more than just a day.)
-Ashford
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