The days before

Last night, while pilfering the ice cream I'd bought for tomorrow, The Mr. told me, "It's not even close to your birthday yet".  How dumb of me to buy ice cream two days before so we could take it to his mother's house.  I even got HER favorite kind.  I bought cake mix and frosting too, because Winston especially expects for their to be cake when it's someone's birthday.  On the frozen foods aisle Wednesday looked at me and said, "I want to come wif you to your birfday, Mommy."  My birthday is just at home this year.

That's perfectly fine with me.  I have issues with my own birthday anyway.  We lost our first baby a month before the biggest birthday celebration I've ever had (Vegas!), and got pregnant with Winston less than 2 weeks later.  Maybe that's why it seems so insignificant.  I didn't really begin until Winston was conceived and born.  It just feels wrong to celebrate too much the person I was before they all came.

Last year, much to my surprise, my husband went all out again.  I used my spa gift certificate, we took a surprise shopping trip to Houston so I could buy some new clothes for myself.  I was shocked, and it took me a long time to process that it was for me.  I dunno...

It just feels weird, I guess.  My mom always texts me at the time I was born, and that means the world to me.  

When you're small, your birthday is so very important.  I want it to feel that way to my boys, and even though he's grown, to my husband.  Even my Mom, who was born on Halloween, gets everything I can possibly create to make her feel special.

I don't know how to feel special on my birthday without feeling guilty.

Yesterday, I hung wash on the line that the woman who sold our house left behind.  I made my Grandmothers' brisket and purple hull peas form the farmers' market.  We listened to my brother's band all day in the van, and I remembered my cloth bags for the grocery store.  

That was all pretty damn magical in one afternoon.  That was enough....  And I'm ok with that.