Each morning of my birthday since I can remember my first waking moments are spent thinking, "Today is my birthday!" When I was younger it was always a feeling of excitement.... the special cards, happy birthday wishes, gifts. All for me. All about me. The milestone birthdays were especially important, packed with new privileges that only that magical birthday can bring. And then some time in my mid-twenties the realization that the big Three-O was creeping up began to cast a cloud over my birthday. When the day of the big Three-O arrived it was filled with clouds. And rain. But it was also filled with family & friends who gathered to wish me a happy 30th, a happy golden birthday. It was a great day.
But turning 32.... I guess a mother of two preschoolers should expect nothing less than what I got on my 32nd birthday. I was awakened at 4-something by the word, "Mommy!" No time to even think, "Happy Birthday to me." I ran to the bathroom, grabbed the puke bucket, and cleaned up my lovely. The rest of what should have been our sleeping hours was spent either catching the projectile or waiting for another round. I woke up on the floor of our family room, our traditional staging area for the ill. Lauren crawled into our make-shift bed with Abby & I when she awoke, and the girls and I snuggled, watched a little Good Morning America, I fielded a few early bird birthday calls, and then the best gift a 32 year-old mom could ask for erupted around me. My girls serenaded me with their misstepped version of Happy Birthday To You. It couldn't have been more perfect!
Thank God for that moment. The day just went downhill from there. Oh Abby felt better, and there were no more vomiting episodes. And Geoff did come home at lunch with a beautiful bouquet of flowers. But there were countless behavioral issues, followed by burnt take-out and a homemade birthday cake that was short on frosting. And I did receive several phone calls, e-mails, cards and Facebook birthday greetings, which in themselves truly helped to salvage my spirits. I've certainly had better birthdays, but I'm quite happy to be walking in my shoes.
So how do you follow a day like that? Well, if you're a mother of these two lovelies, you start the next day with a peaceful walk so early the sun has not even begun to rise wearing those comfy worn-in shoes. You admire the clear skies and vibrant stars, and then you become a casualty of the darkness, and step in your own dog's steamer.
I'm still quite content to be walking in my own shoes.... I just keep them out of the house. At least until I can be sure all of the poop is off.
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- Fairborn, Ohio, United States
- I'm a teacher by trade, writer at heart & mom in every sense of my being. I never considered writing as a profession, but after I got married and began moving around the country, I began sharing my adventures, misadventures & updates through a sort of e-mail newsletter. I found a true passion in unconventional story-telling that has followed me into motherhood.