Every year I have this fantasy that my birthday, which is the same day each and every year (it’s kind of a tradition with birthdays), will actually be anticipated and some celebration will be planned by The Spouse and the children. Or, barring that, I will have the energy to clean my house and throw myself my own party held in my August-lush garden (the reality is late-September-burnt) with candles burning and a bevy of friends mixing and mingling in the night air.
This is how things went this year.
The day commenced with sleeping in and breakfast (eggs and bacon) made by The Spouse. B+--it could have been an A if either of us had thought to toss in a slice of toast since I am unlikely to have toast again for, roughly, the rest of my life.
My cake. A—it was chocolate with lots of fluffy frosting, delicious and I didn’t have to make it or buy it.
Cake. F—it was the dessert at a baptism we had to attend. The Spouse was speaking. There were no candles.
Cake. C—an average grade (thank goodness I saved and froze a slice of death-by-chocolate cake from Costco my mom served at a Labor Day gathering back on, um, Labor Day).
I got a nap. A—because, hey, it was a nap.
I got a nap. F—because the Big Guy interrupted it by bellowing “Dad! Dad! Dad!” from the bathroom over and over (and over) again in spite of Dad’s lack of response due to the fact that The Spouse was away from home at the moment (busy not buying presents) and I had to get up and find out what was wrong. “My roll of toilet paper seems wet and I can’t get any off.” Whereupon he tossed it to me and I found that it was, indeed, wet. Sopping. And pruney. And in my arms. (It was only later, much later, that I wondered just how it got so wet . . .)
I got a nap. F—Just as I drifted back to sleep he woke me up again to ask, “When’s dinner?” Did I mention it was my birthday? The one day a year I don’t make dinner and feel no guilt whatsoever? (As opposed to the many days I don’t make dinner and do feel—just a smidge—guilty.)
I got a nap. D--average grade, i.e. the grade one arrives at when averaging the above grades together. Don’t look at me; teachers made it up. This is just another thing I can blame on The Spouse (‘cause he’s a teacher).
Presents. A--They were things that I had chosen.
Presents. F--They were things I had bought at the beginning of the month, (i.e. back when we had money due to the fact that we get paid then, just then, and only then) because we needed them. You know, household items purchased to replace worn or missing items, either because the dog ate them or they went down the disposal or somebody who shall remain nameless accidentally knocked them into the garbage can and was too lazy to dig it out. You know the drill.
Presents. B--The Spouse wrapped them this year.
Presents. C+--an average grade (good thing I thought ahead and had them stashed against possible Gift Purchasing Failure by The Spouse. It happens. Every year. And at Christmas too. It’s okay, there’s less crying--and on rare occasions, hysterical laughter-- if I buy my own.)
My party. A—there were a lot of people mixing and mingling in the night air, the festivity aided and abetted by the soft glow of lights flickering in the dark.
My party. F—we were at our town’s annual OktoberFest, a barely disguised excuse to walk around utterly smashed for the entire day followed by drunk driving.
My party. A—we left the Big Guy at home.
My party. F—we had so much trouble finding parking, we had to leave the car about a block from our own house and walk the rest of the way. (I know what you’re thinking but that last (or first) block is a steep one.)
My party. A—we don’t drink.
My party. F—we don’t drink.
My party. C—an old drunk looked at my long-craved corndog and snarled, “You came to a German festival and you are having a corndog?!?!? (I would give it an F but I found it amusing. Also, I snarled back “I’m Scandinavian!” which helped to even out the scales a bit further).
My party. F—a lady asked me to take her child on a ride that required an adult and I said no. I felt guilty about that.
My party. A—the Little Guy and I barely survived the ride so the afore-said woman’s two year old waif would surely have been a waif-sized smear on the inside of the Ride Entrapment Device (i.e. enclosure built for the purpose of spinning around at coma inducing rates whilst managing to contain body parts, attached or otherwise). This eradicated all my former guilt. (And my former hair-do. And my former brains.)
My Party. C—the average score. Good thing I was too hyped up on sugar and wheat to care.
My Birthday in general. A—due to all the chocolate enrobed wheat.
My Birthday in general. F—due to all the heartburn which will no doubt linger until September 27th 2009.
P.S. I posted this several hours ago, back when I thought it was absolutely hysterical. In fact, I almost got hysterical when I was writing it--the Spouse was rather alarmed. Now it just sounds like one long whine. Blame the wheat.
19 wise, witty and wonderful comments
Jami, you are such a hoot! Sorry about the JW celebrations but, you know, there are worse things.
So, how is a lot of money any good if it is pretend money? That one is going to keep me awake tonight.
Happy Belated Birthday Heidi!
This post was hilarious and I'm saving it as a subtle reminder before my next birthday. Sadly, my birthdays sound vaguely like yours although at least my Mom still makes me a cake out of pity!
Happy Birthday! I thought of you this weekend while I was making Brownies. Hope the wheat/drunkeness wears off sooner then later. Ah yes, I am very familiar with somewhat lame, but well meaning presents. My birthday is Wed and I have asked for a bill organizer for my front entrance way. Pretty lame. No money + needed household items = lame presents. Luckily, my mom sent me money to spend on myself...which I totally will. And, the good news is, I have a hot husband to look at which is worth its price in gold :).
Jenny--thank you! Jen--your mother is a jewel! I'm so glad you have her! NATA--my husband also has plenty of good qualities, I'm just a lot more quiet about those things. It's hard to be funny when things are mushy. When he reads this less than complimentary post, he will totally understand that it is about the laughs and not a personal attack on him--which is pretty cool.
"I'm Scandinavian!" I laughed out loud at that one! You are a funny one. I am glad all of Germany celebrated your birthday with you.
Kazzy, I love your outlook on things. Heck, yeah! all of Germany celebrated! It must be because my name is Heidi . ..
Happy late birthday! I actually knew it was your birthday without any help from your blog because my mom told me. ha. Anyway, I meant to leave a happy birthday that day but we were in ID with my family for the weekend and you know how crazy that gets. Nathan didn't get me anything for Mother's Day this year. He seemingly forgot all about it (except I knew he hadn't really). But oh well. Life's not about presents, right? And on Nathan's birthday I was ultra sick with a tube in my arm which I disconnected to go see Indiana Jones with him at the theater, where I had to stare at the floor and close my eyes half of the time to keep from vomiting AT the theater. I spent the rest of the night being very sick so it was a crummy day for him, and on MY birthday I was sick all day, too, but decided to try to go out that evening anyway whereupon I discovered NATHAN was sick and we went home and sat on the couch where I coerced him into watching a chick flick with me. There's always next year for a perfect day! :)
Heidi, you are so hysterically funny. When you are at your best I find myself laughing so hard I don't know what to say. This is one of those posts, Girl! Well, actually I can say that I'm glad you had one of those birthdays resulting in this great post :-) You kill me!
Jessica--you are a sweetie! I hope your next birthday and Mother's day rocks! Marivic--thank you! I really had decided it was a pretty lame post but if I made you laugh, well then, all is well. : )
I love the honest answers! Seems like my kind of birthday... You have me laughing really hard... I tried to take a nap yesterday and it turned out like your birthday nap.. Sigh...
Thanks Karolyn, I appreciate it! sorry about the nap, tho . . .
Oh, I've always wanted to go to Oktoberfest and not drink. But I'm too intimidated by the unfamiliarity of the situation.
I love that you turned down taking some woman's kid on the smash-you-sick ride.
NR--it was our first time to the Oktoberfest--I think we could probably skip it for some years to come. And the ride--hey, I didn't even think twice when I saw how tiny that kid was. The mom was shocked that I would be so ungenerous, but after I got off the ride, I was a bit shocked that she would have asked. Yikes!
I think it's pretty darn-near hysterical.
Heidi,
OMG that TOTALLY sounds like my life! I too got nothing for my bday although it too lands on the same day every year, as does Christmas. I'll give him Mother's day, as that's a 'floating' holiday. I liked the comment about the closet JW -- that explains my husband to a T!!
As for Ocktoberfest...what a riot! I too don't drink (well rarely) and it was so funny to see how obsurd all those drunk people acted. I just don't understand how they have a 'drinking' event mixed with a kids carnival...go figure!
I'd missed your blog for a few days and needed a lift...GOT it!!
Hope to see you @ the nursery Rhyme Program. I think the little guy and my little girl are doing the same Sing a Song of Sixpence!!
Holy Cow, two or three comments on this one that I missed--I'm just not used to people actually posting comments on my current stuff, let alone on my old stuff. I need to check back on the older ones more often, I guess . .
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