"One Year Closer to the Grave..."

Sometimes what happens when your expectations are low can really surprise you.

I wasn't expecting much for my birthday given Randal is out of town. I was fine with it. But in reality, I had a fabulous birthday.

Yesterday morning I reminded the kids it was my birthday, mainly so they wouldn't sass me and forgive me when I sneaked away to take a nap. Ethan was sure I couldn't have a birthday without decorations. He proceeded to make dozens of paper hearts and tape them around the house. Here's a few: (Notice the inch of dust. Just keepin' it real!)
It was stake conference. We didn't go. I feel bad. But only a little bit. Instead, I read and read and read. It didn't matter that I didn't even like the book.

Late afternoon I received a call from my best friend of 15+ years. She was expecting her 4th child, due in February. She called to let me know she was in labor. A baby on my birthday! What better gift can there be? I tried to convince her she had to name her baby girl after me, but they seemed to think having a birthday in common didn't trump being named after Grandma. Anyway, Chloe Emma was born yesterday. Congratulations Stacy and Robert!

Our friends the Dukes had invited us over for dinner. The Wilcoxes were there too. We had wonderful dinner with a surprise birthday cake. On top of the traditional birthday song, I even got another birthday song sung solo by John. Much better than my dad's mournful song: "Happy Birthday. Oh, Happy Birthday. There's no sun in the sky, people dying everywhere but, Happy Birthday..." (Actually, I love that dreadful song, it's tradition.)

If that wasn't enough, this morning my new friends from the ward held a birthday brunch. I have been spoiled!

I missed Randal, it's true. But I am overwhelmed by the number of great friends I now have in my life, both near and far. Each one of you truly are an answer to my prayers. I love you.

"Thrisis"

I heard that on an episode of ER--thrisis--a thirty-something, mid, mid-life crisis. I laughed. Then I wondered if I was having a thrisis of my own. Here's my evidence:

Right away the whole ER thing betrays me. I'm a long-time fan, even through the more tedious plot-point years. ER first aired the year I graduated from high school. Others have moved on--Clooney, Edwards and Whiley. But not me. And now that it is in it's final season I'm beginning to feel deep sadness, as if Dr. Greene is dying of cancer all over again.

Speaking of high school. I recently reconnected with a friend who is now a high school teacher. He wrote his students consider Duran Duran "old people" music. Surely they don't mean the same Duran Duran I listened to?

Then I remembered the plug-and-play game my parents gave us one Christmas with all sorts of Commodore 64 games including a childhood favorite, Impossible Mission. I was playing this one night when some boys from Randal's YM group stopped by. They were very interested in the game and asked a lot of questions about it's ancient graphics. I explained the game was from the first computer my family owned. As they left one said, "Thanks for the history lesson, Sister Nelson."

Randal had a birthday surprise delivered. My first Ipod. I know, I'm the last person to get one. Worse yet, I don't have the first clue how to work it. I'll have to wait until Randal gets home. Thanks, Honey.

And lastly, on the eve of my 33rd birthday, I realize the highlight of my entire week was participating in the RS Enrichment class on using wheat everyday. A few weeks back, I was asked to be part of the "wheat committee" in planning the activity. I don't claim to know much about wheat; but honestly, I know more than my younger self ever thought I would know. And since I'm being honest...I had a lot of fun.

With such overwhelming proof, the only thing I can do is join my friend in listening to more Duran Duran--on my Ipod.

Oh, and the bright side...with all that wheat I consumed today, I'm going to have a very "regular" birthday. And only we old people understand what a gift that truly can be.

Gross!

Randal called and said he tried raw horse in Japan.

So why is it that he eats something so nasty, yet I'm the one dealing with 2-year-old vomit today?

Broccoli's on the Menu Tonight

Randal is out of town. When he is gone we go easy peazy around here for dinner. Oh, who am I kidding I do it all the time. Poor Randal gets pancakes for dinner far more often than he deserves.

Anyway, yesterday I hit a new low.

We were out of milk and bread requiring a trip to Sam's Club. I figured we could stop at a respectable place for dinner on the way--Subway, Wendy's, any place with a cheap kid's meal. Ethan asked what kind of errands we would be doing trying to decide what degree of misery he should expect. I told him just Sam's.

"Could we eat there?" he asked.

And I agreed. I hung my head in shame as my kids ate super-size hot dogs with soggy buns and drank sodas far too large for their little bladders.

So why is it that something I find perfectly acceptable for lunch on a busy Saturday afternoon could make me feel so pathetic when I fed it to my kids for dinner? Was it the obvious absence of the 4 food groups? The price? (It was cheap, very cheap.) Or was it that we were eating "dinner" in a place with an exposed ceiling and cement floors?

Well, I was sufficiently punished--Adelaide wet the bed.

She

My kids have tried to eat me alive this weekend. Especially Adelaide. She's taken to screaming, "don't talk to me!" if she doesn't want me exercising my motherly rights. Plus, I'm on my own given that Randal is traveling for business.

Just when I was contemplating selling one of my children to even out my odds a lovable, little voice whispers in my ear, "Mom, will you snuggle with me?"

So on my lap she climbed. We laid there, belly to belly, while she examined all the anomalies on my face. (There's plenty to keep her busy.) Impulsively, she leaned up and kissed my mole. "All better!" she said as she tenderly patted my cheeks.

I really love this kid. She makes me crazy just about every day; but, she absolutely makes me laugh every day too.

I love that she sings "Happy Birthday Cake To You". The song's the better for it. Anything is better with cake.

I love our lunch dates. We are sadly lacking in play places around here; a pastime my kids and I enjoy. I figure the fast-food calories they eat are canceled out by running around on the filthy playland. I miss them. Nearly once a week, Adelaide and I find ourselves with a big shopping day spilling into lunchtime. Our favorite places have become a yummy bread and soup shop and Pizza Hut pizza at Target's "cafe". Without the distraction of a playland, I have discovered that a 2-year-old has a lot to say. Her eyes twinkle as she chatters and chatters. And I listen. Something I forget to do too often.

I love that she calls her girl parts her "privacies". "Mom, please wipe my privacies," she says. Makes the job not seem so bad.

I love that she is learning to use the computer all by herself, thanks to Starfall. She can even do the match games on her own. I was astounded.

I love it when I call her "ladybug" she indignantly says, "I not a ladybug...I, Ado-wade!"

I love her eyes. They're big and green and beautiful. There is no mistaking her mood; I can always read it in her eyes.

So after thinking about it, I've decided to ignore her impressive tantrum at Target and keep her after all. Her brother is going to have to be awfully good because it's his head now on the chopping block!

He Lives

I was preparing a lesson for YW today and happened upon this:

This Place is on Thin Ice

I told myself to reserve judgement of my new town for 6 months while I got used to it.

Today, on the heels of my 6-month deadline, the daytime weather is 7 degrees with the windchill factor measuring -10 degrees.

Maybe I need another 6 months.