23 August 2007

A sign that birthdays are just not the same as when you were a kid

There were few responsibilities. Sure, if you're birthday fell on a weekday in any season but the summer, you had to go to school. But there was a party - cupcakes, ice cream, a song.

But being a grown up and a parent, birthdays aren't those carefree, it's all about me, days anymore. Here is how I spent my day.

At 8 a.m. I am already on the road dragging my toddler to the Registry of Motor Vehicles because I waited until the last possible second to renew my license. Fortunately, we were in and out. Unfortunately, my picture is still horrible.

9 a.m. Enter Brooks Pharmacy for a pregnancy test.

9:30 a.m. Home. Conducting said pregnancy test. I am surprisingly disappointed when only one pink line appears in the little window.

10:00 a.m. Off to the playground. Enjoyable. But if I had my choice (I mean it WAS my birthday) I would have been sipping a mimosa somewhere where there weren't seashorse shaped ride-on toys.

11:45 a.m. We are having lunch at a favorite haunt of ours, Fowle's. We order the same as usual. A Turkey Havarti sandwich. It's so good it's too hard to pass up. We have a very pleasant time. I nearly cry because I am able to have a conversation with my two-year-old.

1 p.m. Naptime. Ahhhh. Sweet. Sweet naptime.

1:30 p.m. I discover another bird in our woodstove pipe. He's flapping his wings like crazy, poor thing. This sends me into a worrying frenzy for the rest of the afternoon about what else can get into our house.

3 p.m. Go out and get mail. Open b-day cards from mom and friends. Listen to messages from friends and family members who have called to send me their best wishes.

4:15 p.m. Naptime over.

4:30 Off to the gym. I watch the end of Oprah while on the treadmill. It's an episode about inspirational guests. A woman with terminal cancer. Another woman hit by a drunk driver. A little boy with a terminal illness who still manages to write poetry about the beauty of life. I feel like a jerk because I am worried about a bird.

6 p.m. Home from gym. Son will not eat dinner. We enlist Grammy's help via telephone. He eats when I promise him one of the cupcakes left inside my door by a well-meaning, but damned friend. He does. Then he stuffs the cupcake into his mouth, chews, and spits it all out onto the table. Apparently I have the only toddler who doesn't like chocolate.

6:30 p.m. I am counting down the seconds until Rich gets home. I am tired, smelly and hungry.

7 p.m. Rich arrives home with a pastry box from Cafe Di Sienna. I am both excited and pissed at the prospect of eating a 1,000 calorie dessert.

7:15 p.m. Rich goes to pick up our Thai food (a special birthday request). I read bedtime books to our son and nearly fall asleep in the middle of the Adventures of Max the Minnow.

7:30 p.m. Rich comes home. We put our son to bed.

7:45 p.m. We unpack said Thai food and eat our Tofu Pad Thai while our son screams bloody murder from his room.

7:48 p.m. I go into his room.
7:50 p.m. Rich goes into his room
8 p.m We decide to let him scream.

8:15 We engage in our well-developed method of getting birds out of the wood stove.

9:15 p.m. Bird still in woodstove. Rich and I are tired and pissed. We sit down to eat dessert. Rich sings Happy Birthday. We laugh and dig in. I feel myself getting fatter, but enjoy every minute of it.

9:30 Take a shower.

10 p.m. I read in bed, and fall asleep.


All in all a good day.

4 comments:

Anonymous said...

isn't it wierd how they are so nice to get us food or make us food, and it tastes so good, but you get mad at them at the same time because they know we are trying not to eat as much and then they're like, well don't eat it, but you know you are going to eat it because it's there??? and you are glad they did it at the same time. anyway bitty- happy birthday--- you never called me back - i am ready to go out whenever you want...i can feel myself getting fatter right now too- we went out to eat, spent too much money and then got ice cream too, all instead of going for a calorie burning walk. can't you guys cap that chimney or something? i really really hope my kids like chocolate. happy birthday again!

Anonymous said...

why isnt my first conmment showign up?

Michelle said...

Yeah. There was NO way I wasn't going to eat chocolate peanut butter cake. And I swear I gained two pounds.

Anonymous said...

remember the record we played on your birthday when you were little, My name is Zomm, and I live on the moon, I still have that