It's my birthday

A year ago, I was in cahootz with Persnickety to go tool around Disney. We did that but with a stowaway. I couldn't imbibe on the beer I procured a couple weeks earlier. I could barely get through an hour without feeling green or eating something. I was still busy arguing with God that I was not pregnant, that it was perimenopause.

I very obviously LOST that argument.

I used to call my mom at the stroke of midnight and wish her a Happy BirthING Day. I'm not driving the hours to Bushnell to tell her gravestone. Her neighbors might not like the excitement anyway.

My younger brother, sister and I have a little game we play on birthdays. We try to call the birthday person first, just so we can claim "first birthday wishes". This year, the oldest son stayed up just to be the first one to wish me Happy Birthday at the stroke of midnight.

For my birthday, I have planned: waking up to take the boys to school because Beast has tutoring at 7:30. (::checks clock::) meh, sleep is apparently overrated. A chiropractor appointment - 2 long weeks since the last one and I am in sooo need of an adjustment. I'm back to walking like I did when I was bursting at the seams pregnant with the mini-human. I feel old. Devildog so much as called me old. He likes to rub it in that I'm older than he is, like 3 months means all that much in the grand scheme of things here. I have some school-related junk to tend to, and I plan on mooching Moe's for my birthday burrito. Sometime soon I need to hit up Sticky Fingers for my free birthday entree. Perhaps a date with my Devildog? Or maybe one of my birthday-neighbor friends wants to plan something.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm overdue for sleep. The older I get the more difficult it is to stay cute on just a few hours' nap.