One of my resolutions I made on my birthday was to start writing again. I figured the only way I'll have time to write is if I do my writing while Hayden is doing his writing. Right now he's procrastinating over his journal writing so I might have quite a long time to write.
I don't have a clue what to write about. Hayden has been assigned the task of writing about this weekend. I like asking him to do that on Mondays, because I hope it's improving his long term memory. Right now, Hayden has a stellar memory... if it's something he's interested in. But somehow, no matter how interesting the weekend was, he can never remember anything.
And it was an interesting weekend. Friday was my birthday. Adam took the day off because I had a dentist appointment. The kids woke me up and asked for ice cream cake (originally taken with us to small group Thursday night) for breakfast. I happily told them yes, and the kids and I paraded downstairs for bowls of lemon and strawberry goodness. Abigail asked for a small piece, but of course, changed her mind after finishing that and asked for more. I licked frosting off my fingers as I scooped it off the plastic container it came in.
The dentist appointment was not as fun. Not terrible. But no one could say having a filling replaced is the height of excitement. I did, however, plan out some resolutions for my 34th year while I was stuck in that chair, staring up at the light and the ornaments hanging from the ceiling. There isn't a breeze in the dentists office, so the ornaments hang completely still. One, a fabric and wire butterfly, was made with surprisingly realistic features such as red buggy eyes and wiry legs. But only four legs. I wondered if some fell off or if the crafter just didn't know how many legs an insect should have.
As I was pulling out my phone to make appointments for another dental check-up, I noticed a text from Adam asking if I was done yet. I texted back that I was on my way. I was worried that the baby, only two months old, was crying. This was the first time that I left him with someone else and without me being close enough to nurse him if needed. When I got home a few minutes later, he was relatively quiet, but Adam told me he had been fussing for ten minutes or so.
"He is either hungry or needs a diaper change, but I didn't change him. I wasn't sure what diapers were his and which were Abigail's," he said.
When I woke up on the morning of my birthday, I was feeling grateful that I was able to serve my family, even though it was my birthday. I was happy to be here, alive, and with another year before me to care for the people I love.
As the day wore on, and I made pancakes and picked up the house and changed the baby, I found myself occasionally starting to get annoyed that no one rushed in to stop me from serving the family. I mean, it was my birthday! Shouldn't everyone be grabbing the spatula from my hand and insisting I sit down? Should they be picking up the trail of toys and clothes that follow after them all the time and, for one day, miraculously putting these things away? Why, on the day celebrating my birth, did my house have to look like the Sargasso Sea??
But before this line of thinking could ruin a good day, I reminded myself that I ALWAYS do this stuff for my family. I even enjoy some of it, like making pancakes. So why would they think that I wouldn't want to do it on THIS day? They were even staying out of my way, just the way I usually prefer when I'm busy trying to "get things done". And Adam had come in to where I was to hug me and tell me how much he loved me while I flipped the pancakes, standing behind me so as not to get in the way of what I was doing. Of course this was their way of showing me love!
So it was a good birthday. After fillings and pancakes, we did a science center and the movies. Dinner was my choice and I chose my favorite type of sandwich, which was served with chips and my favorite soda. There was more ice cream cake until it was gone. And the best part was I didn't cry once, which I'm known to do on my birthday. It was a perfect day.
