I took the day off from work for my birthday. I spent the morning at a nonprofit board meeting and running errands, but had the rest of the day to myself to do whatever I liked. Met up with JW for lunch, bought clothes at my favorite consignment store with the birthday money my in-laws sent, watched the "Veronica Mars" movie at home, and visited the comic book store in Harvard Square, all before picking up the kids and cooking dinner. All of this was in sharp contrast to last year, when I tried to take the day off and ended up not only going to work, but roped into a project that made me miss my own birthday dinner despite my clear and frequent protestations that I did not have time and it was my birthday and I needed to go home. Anyway, you've heard plenty of stories like that before.
My dear friend CT sent me a birthday package, containing a fancy fountain pen, homemade cookies, and other goodies including this:
(It's actually a very old joke between me and CT, going back to a similar pair in college whose ad copy read: "Impress your friends. Shock your boss. With giant boobs. HUGE BOOBS!")
(I am going to get the worst Google search hits from this post.)
I took a goofy selfie with the Japanese Instant Boobs box and texted it with a message saying, "Just what I always wanted!" Unfortunately, I forgot that in between texting CT to thank her for the package, I had gotten a text from one of K's friend's moms setting up a playdate, and had replied to her by accident. She texted back, "I don't know what that is?" Oops.
Between babies and too much work, it's been several years since I had a really good birthday. All I ever want is time to myself and some evidence that the people I care most about are thinking of me. This birthday was just about perfect.