Like every other Memorial Day around these parts, my birthday dawned cloudy and with the threat of rain. But who cares? I put on my leotard and began to dance!!
No, no, no. No way. My husband works every Sunday, so it’ s my day to hang with B.T. and Baby Ham. Which means most of the day consisted of various forms of feeding children, laying down the iron hand of discipline, making up songs about putting away shoes, and reminding B.T. every so often that it was my birthday:
“Guess what, B.T.? Today is my birthday!”
“NO! It B.T. birthday!”
Repeat that conversation over and over and we’ve just covered about sixty percent of my day.
After Ryan got home from work, he was grilling me an amazing steak (marinated in Gentleman Jack, ’cause we’re classy like that) when he discovered a nest of hundreds of tiny spiders in our porch. If you were wondering what they were up to, they were probably gathered together to home in on my exact location so they could spend the rest of their lives scaring the $%&* out of me. My sensitive husband came into the house where I was shucking corn and said, “Dude, there’s like hundreds of baby spiders out on the porch.” To which I replied, “Wow. The porch gives me terrible birthday presents.” Then he sprayed them with poison.
After dinner, as a birthday present for the woman who gave him life, B.T. had a meltdown. Ryan was lighting candles in my pan of brownies and I think B.T. finally began to realize, in a very emotional manner, that it truly was my birthday and not his. I captured this meaningful moment on video, but was forbidden to post it here. Just know that the audio is a contest between B.T.’s screaming and my laughing.
Once Ryan brought over the pan full of brownies and fire, Brayton’s eyes stopped sweating and he got excited real quickly and sang me Happy Birthday. Then – wait for it – WE ATE BROWNIE SUNDAES!!!! I used all capital letters and many exclamation points for that last part because you must image me on top of a hill, yelling this with the victory of someone who has achieved a lifelong dream after much struggle and sacrifice. My emotions did so many double-dream-hands.
To be honest, my taste buds basically made love to that brownie sundae. And if my taste buds can make love to just one thing on my birthday, that birthday is deemed a success.
And you know what else makes a birthday successful? Unexpected presents from neighbors doing yard work:
So there you have it! A great day to mark my thirty-second year on year on earth. Between the spiders, the meltdowns, the desserts, and the yard working habits of my neighbors, I think it’s going to be a great year!