I am relatively certain that my children somehow connect with my daycare children. It must be through ESP. They collaborate on which days they are all going to act like, well, hellians. Today was their chosen day. This morning was pretty rough, folks, but its nap time now. And rather than brushing off another day of writing instead of a nap, or knitting, or a nice stiff drink, here I sit. Typing away for therapy. Not all of the little ones are sleeping, though.
Type. Say "Today will be a good day." Take a shot of whiskey. Repeat.
Anyhow, yesterday was my birthday. I turned 28, and as I have said before next year I will be eternally 29. Not that I mind growing old. The Bible reminds a few times that the older people are usually the wiser people. But 30 just sounds so harsh. Seriously. I should still be some spunky 21 year old who gets hit on by lots of guys while out having a good time. Make-up always perfect, hair done just so, and boy did I look cute in some jeans. In my husband's and my group of friends, however, I am now the older married woman that the other ladies come to for advice on marriage, children, housekeeping, recipes....etc. I never wear makeup, wear baggy blue jeans and a t-shirt, and brush my hair before putting it in a ponytail. And that is on a good day.
EXCUSE ME!? WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN?!
I really should be flattered. I mean, I have a wonderful marriage, two awesome-for-the-most-part children who I would trade for nothing, a house that is kept up most of the time and I cook just about every meal we eat. And my friends want their families to be like that too, so they come to me for advice.
After school was out yesterday, and all the daycare kids were gone, my kids took me shopping for my present. We went to Walmart, and they had one helluva sale on material. I got a total of 20 yards in 5 different prints, two patterns, and all the notions to accompany, as well as a new tea strainer (since I use loose-leaf tea). Oh yeah. And a package of diapers. All that for $59 bucks!
Not too shabby!
I made my own birthday dinner, which turned out to be disgusting. And I like everything, but hear me again. This. Was. Nasty. Won't use that recipe again. Good thing Mike got stuck drinking beers with his boss in Amarillo and came home late for supper, so he didn't have to eat it.
Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it was a true housewife's birthday. But you know what? At the end of the day, my children were safe in their little beds in an incredibly loving home, with everything they could possibly need. My husband was sitting on the couch snuggling with me, then winked at me at 9 pm and said "Let's go to bed!" It couldn't possibly be any better than that. At least I don't think so. Its all I have known for the last several years, and honestly all I care to know for the next 90.
"Thank you, Lord, for these incredibly blessings, and please forgive me for bitching so much. Amen."
God understands, doesn't He?!