Today is my birthday. Despite Holden spreading a nasty rumor that I turned 30 today (and then trying to sour patch kid me by saying that I won’t be considered “old” until I’m 100)- I am actually 29. You know you’re getting older when it becomes painful to admit your age. Even with my age creeping upward- I still figure this birthday is a vast improvement over the past few where I either spent them trapped indoors due to ice storm, or strapped on the toilet due to ass storm (a horrible after-effect of the stomach flu.)
I didn’t ALWAYS dread birthdays though. Birthdays used to be a time to wish for the most ridiculous shit on the planet and pray my friends or family got it for me. One year, all I REALLY wanted was a Hanson calendar. Yeah, I said Hanson. WHAT?! I fucking love Hanson. That calendar was my shit- and I had one friend who swore she would get it for me, but she didn’t come to my party that year. Then she swore she’d bring it to school but she kept forgetting and it got to the point where I told her if she wasn’t bringing it I was buying it myself and then I would have TWO Hanson calendars for my birthday- damnit!
Birthdays didn’t become about age until I was right around the 16 mark. Sweet sixteen and all that crap. With this *shudder* age, has come knowledge- and once knowledge kicked in came kids- and once kids kicked in my birthdays COMPLETELY changed. Possibly because my brain melted, or warped… or they brainwashed me- no one can be sure what exactly happened- but my wishes are not at all the same.
Before kids I would see family TV shows (a la Family Matters and the like) where the mom would get a vacuum cleaner for Christmas or her birthday and start foaming from the mouth with absolute anger and vitriol because that was “NOT” what she wanted and she was “NOT A MAID” or “THIS IS NOT ALL I DO, IS THIS WHO YOU THINK I AM NOW?” and think… yeah, totally justifiable reaction. What husband would DO such a thing? Get that woman some jewels and chocolate- STAT!
Now? Fuck yeah I’ll take that vacuum! SCORE! I would LOVE a new vacuum. Or a dishwasher. Or a washer and dryer set. Or an exercise trampoline- and I won’t even bitch about how you must think I’m fat if you got me something to exercise with.
Sure, I believe we should use any excuse we can find to celebrate- what with life being so short and all that- but I don’t even ask for anything anymore.
Okay, that’s a lie- I ask for things, but they’re so tiny in comparison to the bitching about a Hanson calendar or a stereo. Or a car. Or a pony. Or a pony with a built in stereo.
Okay, so I never asked for that last one… but I should have. That would be f’in awesome.
All I want for my birthday NOW, on the first day of the last year of my 20s (SOB!) is I think what any other mom wants. To sit on the couch, watching whatever the hell I want on the boob-tube with no nagging voices in the background while eating my favorite dessert that NO ONE bothers me to share. MINE! All mine! In the peace and quiet! Watching trashy television!
Is that really so hard to get??
Don’t answer that.
Please stop Complimenting my kids’ “Good” Behavior goo.gl/fb/rwfojS
Hard pass from me pic.twitter.com/VayvW1eopK
I've gotten to the point where I'd let my kids summon a demon with a Ouija board before I'd let them play Monopoly together again.
Parenthood is when you start counting the minutes to bed time before 11am.
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