Back when I turned 41, Mike, the boys, my entire family forgot my birthday. You can read about it here, back when my blog was new and funnier. I was so bummed. The following year, I hosted a big party for my own birthday. You can read about it (minus the pictures) here. Last year was low key and here I am again. I have taken to marking my birthday in multi-colored markers on the calendar. Mike and the boys KNOW it’s my birthday, but I’m not taking chances. I baked a peanut butter/chocolate/oatmeal cake this evening that is sturdy enough to hold *gasp* 44 candles. Anything else is gravy.
How is it that I’m 44? I had to go to the DMV today to renew my license. *sniff* The last time I had to physically present myself at the DMV I was newly pregnant with Andy. My hair was long and normal. I thought I was in control because the “bigs” were all of 6, 6, and 7. I was so stoopid. I knew NOTHING. Today, I had to relinquish my tranquil old driver’s license and get a new picture. Let’s just say if a still picture could have an eye-twitch, mine does. Sadly, I’ll probably look back fondly on this hideous picture when I have to revisit the DMV in 10 years. Andy will be 19, Danny will be nearly 27 and Ian and Tim will still be digging the basement home for themselves under our current house.
No plans for the day. The things I would really like to do (bra-shop, fabric-shop, paint samples and maybe a pedicure) aren’t high on the boys’ hit list. It’s a work day, so Mike will be tired when he gets home.
Who knows, I hate to let the day just go by … maybe the boys and I will end up doing something fun tomorrow. Something fun that isn’t shopping for new bras or checking out fabric swatches . . I’ll let you know.
In the meantime, I think everyone reading should eat 44 M & M’s (or whatever floats your boat) . . .