I was wearing just my underwear and nursing tank top, standing in front of my computer this morning, waffling between putting some pants and shoes on and moving boxes (We're moving to the country...there should really be some blogging about this. Put that on a list somewhere...), eating food (totally overrated), reading about fake documentaries on the possibility of mermaids (super important), or writing a blog about my disastrous birthday yesterday.
Blog WON! I am perched on Serenity, the yoga ball, pants-less, while Thing 1 places monkey stickers on my hairy legs (pretending they are band-aids and she is a nurse - "This will pinch just a liiiiitttle bit"), and listening to Thing 2 possibly choking in the living room. Thing 2 has started crawling. Well, inching. And EATING. EVERYTHING. Kid, you are not 2 years old, stop being an over achiever. It's about the journey.
Anyway, yesterday was my BIRTHDAY! I am one of those people who gets excited about my birthday. Even if I don't have a party, or presents. Even if my mom forgets to call me (happened once. hey, she has six kids, a lot of her brain has been slowly eaten by us.), and all I do is sit in my house all day. I still get excited. It's MY day. MINE! The DAY I WAS BORN! Hurrah!
It was just Tyrant Daddy and I all weekend, since Nauntie was out of town. We were going to start the festivities on Saturday night. Tyrant Daddy had bought my favorite kind of cake and I was going to let myself have a beer after the Tyrants went down for the night. We tried not to talk about our plans in front of them, but they have spies everywhere. Somehow, they knew.
Thing 1 fell asleep while Daddy read to her, but Thing 2, my "good" baby, decided to sleep so restlessly that if I even shifted my weight her little eyes popped open and she gave her best baby dinosaur wail. So. Hanky Panky was out. Candle-lit cake and drinks were out. At midnight, Tyrant Daddy managed to feed me a couple bites of cake. We laughed it off, made plans for how great the next day was going to be, and crashed.
Every hour Thing 2 started screaming. Thing 1 stayed firmly wedged against my spine, and at 6:00 AM woke me up, huge eyes just inches from mine , to tell me about "da hole in da wall, and da DOC-TOR WHOOOO and coming in the door with da ROBOT" (No, I don't let my child watch Dr. Who, so I have no idea where this came from.)
We staggered through morning coffee and our run around the block. Tyrant Daddy had to leave me briefly and the day was heating up, so we locked ourselves in the AC. Then nap time came around. And no one wanted to nap. All the usual madness happened, and the house looked like a post-apocalyptic movie set. Finally, FINALLY, two hours later than usual, the Things slept.
I decided to attempt a nap too. I was just about to drop off, when I heard something at the front door.
Tyrant Daddy didn't have his keys.
The front door was dead-bolted.
I was trying to ease away from sleeping Thing 2 so I could open the door, when I heard Thing 1 give a heart wrenching scream from the other room.
"MOMMA! Der's a funny noise! MOMMA! A NOISE AT DA WINDOW!"
Resourceful Tyrant Daddy had gone around to the bedroom window that is easiest to open from the outside and had traumatized our child. Good to know that Thing 1 makes a good intruder alert.
There was no more sleeping. And Tyrant Daddy had thrown out his back that morning. So there was gimpy-wounded-man and two screaming babes populating my home. Still, I refused to give up on my day. We managed to play in the paddling pool. Tyrant Daddy managed to clean the rotting wasteland of my kitchen and cook an amazing dinner. Maybe tonight? After kids were asleep? Maybe? Beer and cake and...?
Bedtime came. Thing 1 remembered she could reach the light switch now. Just when I thought she was asleep I heard little thump thump thump "I turna da lights on!" Awesome.
Finally, Thing 2 was asleep in Daddy's arms. Thing 1 was throwing a masterful tantrum, demanding as she has been for days that she get to snuggle with me. All I wanted to do was be stern mom, tell her "NO!" and that she needed to be a BIG GIRL now, and go to sleep on her own, because I was TIRED and CRABBY and it was my BIRTHDAY damn it, I should be wearing a pretty dress and drinking champagne and dancing with Tyrant Daddy and laughing about getting too old, not wearing my vomit stained pajama pants from the night before, and feeling every second as old as I am. and trying to function on around 4 hours of sleep.
But I looked at her little sad eyes and picked her up, gave her a bottle, and rocked her like I used to, and haven't done in a long time.
She burrowed her face in my arm, sighed, and fell fast asleep. Sometimes I forget that she is only 2 years old. She is so smart, so expressive, so advanced in language, such a good big sister, that it is hard to remember that she is just a baby herself.
I stumbled out of the room and stared blearily at Tyrant Daddy. I looked at my beer. Thought about drinking it. Decided I was too tired, and went to bed.
I will just save up all the fun I DIDN'T have this year, and in some future year I will USE it to make that day even MORE FUN. Yeah. 'Cause one thing about getting older that I am realizing is that Life is/can be Long. And also that Life is/can be Shorter than we expect. And in either case, it is really important to be in the moment and not hold onto expectations.
So....CHEERS to ME! I lived another year! I made another human being in that year!
And I bet this year will be EVEN BETTER (I don't think it can be worse)!