I aged. Unlike wine, my age has not sweetened me up but, like cheese, I’ve gotten stinkier, but all the better for it.
Reed: Hey mom! Were you born in the 19’s?
Mom: You mean the 1900’s? Yes, in 1976.
Reed: (exeunt left down hall, with great volume and surprise) Wow! Hey Douglas, mommy was born in 1976!
Thank you Mr. 21st century for making feel like I was born under a fallen tree trunk during the Civil War.
Because of my depreciation, they took pity on their wreck of a mom and bolstered her up with chocolate. I’ve almost forgotten their comments, almost. I ended up making my own cake and frosted it PINK, a color not often displayed in this house. There was a cup of leftover icing that Isaac decided would go well with Hot Tamales, the ones he got for me (happens to be his favorite candy). Chris got me a $25 gift certificate from Amazon, apparently I’m a hard one to shop for. I don’t think I’m hard to shop for, I just happen to like things that aren’t in our budget. All in all, it was a lovely day. Douglas even managed to almost not fight for most of the day, per his promise that I had in writing in my birthday card given to me from him, “Happy Birthday mommy, I promise not to fight.—Love Douglas” Can I get that in writing daily? “Sons, just sign here, yes on that line, a letter will be fine, oh and a finger print…yes, thank you, that will do.”