It’s Friday already?  Where has the week gone?  All in all, my birthday week, just like the day itself, was quiet (far from peaceful) and super-productive.  Even though it’s mainly the boys and me everyday, I am so glad I was wrong about friends and family “forgetting” me.

My entire family called me on Tuesday.  My brothers, most certainly coerced by my parents, BOTH called me before noon.  Not text, not FB message, but physically called me—like on the phone!

That, my friends, was huge.

Even though I’m sure they were reminded by my parents and by Facebook, I have to say, I was quite touched by that.  My phone’s caller id rarely sees their numbers as “incoming.”  So, a big thank you to the family for helping me divert the whole woe-is-me-everyone-forgot-me drama a la Molly Ringwald.

Birthdays, though not as spectacular anymore, are wonderful reminders of how much you’re truly loved, no matter how busy you’ve been or how far you live.

Thank you for loving me so much, family and friends.


The boys and I had dinner at one of my favorite Mexican restaurants—the kind where you bring your own booze and they happily swirl and swish your cheapish wine to make Sangria.  It was just as divine as the guacamole they made at the table.  (My guac is never as good as theirs! I need to get one of their 10-lb. mortar and pestles just to recreate that deliciousness!)

Jack was well behaved, which was a treat in of itself.  He chowed on tortillas and close to a pound of sour cream—no lie.  And that right there, is proof that our child, as of late, is on a strict condiment and fruit binge. Only. Not necessarily together, though he’s known to experiment with apples in ranch.  (barf)

As for us, our dinners were nice, but we were completely annoyed by the very loud outside talker who sat next to us.  Mind you, the local restaurants are quaint and tables literally have 1.5 inches in between them to maximize space.  So basically, we sit ON TOP of each other, like butt-to-butt with the next table.  Well, almost.  So, when this 6-top of babyfaced 20-somethings sat next to us, from my peripheral vision, I could see the horror from Jeff’s face, complete with his signature subtle headshake.

And the girl, (who graduated from Penn and who was apparently in advertising, but was interviewing for a new job and her aunt works at Wegman’s and who hung out at this bar downtown last Friday…) did NOT stop talking.  AT ALL.  She laced her one-sided conversation to the 5 other kids with a lot of Ohmigawds and F-bombs, just loud enough so our sponge of a toddler could pad his vocabulary with obscenities, in between shoveling the sour cream of course.

I looked at Jeff and asked, “Were we ever that annoying?”

He reinforced the unfortunate truth:  “Oh, completely.  Probably even more obnoxious and annoying.”

But, all I could think was, “God, these kids suck for being so damn loud.”

If I had one, I’m sure I’d be screaming for them to get off my lawn, too.

And that is the day I became a grumpy old lady.  And to think, the Sangria took the edge off!?

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