Ok, well it hasn’t been a whole week since my birthday. And although we do get birthday weeks here on this side of the interweb, (My house, the other side is your house) my week has been cut short for a variety of reasons:
- Husband went out-of-town to drive his mother home from Florida. She won’t fly or drive alone. His cousin drove her down, MIL went not knowing how she would get back. I got daily phone calls for the month leading up to the trip, “You know Alicia is driving down with me, but I still haven’t found a ride back.” Yes I know, you told me yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that. It wasn’t until she was there that I realized I had been too slow and dim-witted to see the truth. She wanted my husband to fly out and drive back with her. Sucka! (Me, I’m the Sucka!) All you have to do is mention that Hilton Head is on the way home from Delray Beach and he’s gone. In the middle of my birthday week. (Wondering when I was gonna get back there?)
- I used up all my Birthday Wishes in one day. I needed the other men of my family, the handy ones, to help me with a big project in my house. My Dad and my Bro-in-Law are like Super-Hero-Handymen! (da da da!!!!) Well I had to use up all of my Birthday Juice and call on them for something above and beyond. Zoinks.
- My son is the center of his universe, not me.
So here’s when I get to the good part. What were the highlights of my actual birthday?
- My son locked me in my bedroom, while he was having a 7yo’s equivalent to a tantrum, and ate my birthday chocolate bar. You may be asking how one get’s locked into their own bedroom. You would be correct to wonder. He thought I was locked in, I was happy for the break and had my iPad with me. So I guess you could say it was my fault he ate the chocolate bar.
- Our washing machine broke. BUT WAIT! We had a spare in the garage. Yes, the dryer broke two months ago, and my husband’s mother was kind enough to buy us a refurbished pair. She was not thrilled that I would not use both. However I figured, why put the miles on my “new” refurbished washer when the old one was still kicking? I fielded more than a few reminders that she bought me a Perfectly Good Washer. Well on my birthday, the husband who was getting ready to fly the coop (see #1 of first list), had to install the new washer before he would be allowed to vacate the premises Let me tell you, it was more than a Perfectly Good Washer. It’s awesome.
- I decided to give my son the old washer to play with. We have started calling him “the deconstructionist” because he has developed a fascination with taking things apart. And destroying them. I know, what was I thinking? I was having a chat with an old friend when I started to hear the continuous sound of shattering glass, which clearly my husband heard from where ever he was as well. We both converged on the site simultaneously to discover our son breaking the glass from the front loader door. With a hammer. Dude. That was so a no brainer. I take full responsibility for not realizing this would be his first act once gaining possession of such a large piece of machinery.
- I spent one hour vacuuming glass out of the brick pavers on our back patio so the dogs wouldn’t slice their feet open, and trying not to suck up every twig and leaf. (Although I was tempted.)
- I had to tackle my son as he was sauntering out of the door with the fireplace matches to light his pirate ship on fire. He had it ready, sitting in a baby pool in one inch of water. – Thinking I had avoided fire trouble I let down my guard, only to discover him slinking out the door a few minutes later, he knew where we kept the extra grill lighter. Had to body slam him and wrestle that one out of his hands too.
- Later, realizing it was too quite, I went on high alert and followed the scent of pyromania to my husband’s downstairs office. There I found the boy poised to strike a match on the box. Tackled.
- Finally we’re having some much-needed down time and the boy tells me he loves me, and wants to give me a kiss. How sweet, right? Or not. Lately this weirdness has kicked in; the boy (he’s 7), tries to make out with me. Not “make out” “make out”, but way too long kisses. I had to gently push him away (no need to scar him for life) and tell him it was inappropriate. He said, “Why Mommy? Are we going to make babies together?”
Yeah, Happy Birthday to me. It actually turned out alright in the end. My sister, myself and our really good friend had an awesome dinner together. I almost died. Twice. Laughing. Literally. Choked on my food and had to spit it out. It was worth every wasted bite. From this meal I tweeted this.
“My sister just tried a sip of Mai Tai, she said it tasted like High School.”
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