Another year...another birthday. Well, I'll tell you what. Birthdays are GREAT. There is no other day I can truly claim as my own. If I want to goto brunch, I'm not elbow fighting 500,000 other moms to get the last piece of cold bacon. If I want to open a gift, I don't have to wait and oooh and aaaah over others as they slowly lift the tape on each corner of their precious box in order to "save and reuse" the wrapping paper. (And don't even THINK of throwing that bow out!) If I want to read my book, I can pull out the "its my birthday" card and prop my feet up guilt-free and get lost in some garbage fictional world.
So, birthdays are great. So what if its another number closer to 100. The reality is, this is a great time of life. I can order wine and actually know what I am doing. I can cut off an entire line of ice cream eaters to order an emergency water for a sick child without batting an eye. I can dress up in stilettos and not look like I'm trying on my mom's shoes. I can pretty much do anything and not be looked at like "she's too young". And the other stuff? The "she's too old for that" stuff? Well, for those things I still like to do, that's what I have kids for...its because they wanted to do it.
So, here's to another year older. The good news is E thinks I'm 23 and D is convinced I'm 16 because that's how old you have to be to drive a car. Oh, and the cake? It's a "monster (dinosaur) with a pink ti era holding yellow flowers", which is truly a mommy of boys cake...Cheers!
No comments:
Post a Comment