December 30, 2010
I was jerked awake at 7 a.m.  The boys were fighting over the new Wii game.
Scott was at work.
No one made me birthday waffles.
I drank two cups of coffee.
Tried to get through my new Ikea catalogue.
I didn't.
Noa fell off the couch.  Liam hit his head on the coffee table.
Kraft Dinner for lunch.
Two games of Scrabble.  One game of Monopoly Junior.  Full-time kid referee.  Rain.  Zander made a disproportionate snowman.  Liam tried to shovel but ended up raking the driveway instead.  Tears.  "Dander fwoo snow in my neck!"  Harrumphs.  "Well, Liam stabbed me with an icicle!"  Perogies for supper.  Loaded with bacon and fried onions and sour cream and tomatoes.  Because that's the way I like them.  Because I wasn't getting a cake.  Happy Birthday to me!

my new car!

There was a great hustle and rustle and whispers.  Liam, beaming, presented me with a well-used yellow gift bag, torn tissue paper sticking out the top, hopping from foot to foot, tongue out to the side.  I dug through the paper.  Making a show of it.  And there in the bottom of the bag was a little red car.  "Happy Burtday, Mommy.  Dat's my vewry favwit tar, you know!"  And I squeezed him until we both fell over on the kitchen floor, thanking him exuberantly until he was giggling almost to the point of throwing up.

Noa grabbed the bag.  She Noa-ran into the living room.  There was a great rustle and thump and thump and thump.  She came Noa-running back.  "Mommeeee - Mommeee - heow (here)."  I opened it with much pomp and circumstance.  Woody.  Jessie.  Ham.  Her doll's baby bottle.  And I squeezed her until we both fell over on the kitchen floor.

Who needs a cake anyway?