Surviving Another Birthday

I don't know how most people are, but for me, BIRTHDAYS ALWAYS SUCK!!! Maybe I always feel like I'm not getting enough attention (having a brother whose birthday is four days before yours only makes this worse...).

Let's face it, most adults think birthdays are for kids, so they concentrate more on kids than they do on adults. Personally though, I think it's even more important to celebrate the older you get. When you're six and you just go to school and play in the backyard most of the day, its not that amazing that you made it to seven years old. But when you're sixty-six, and you've smoked for forty-some years, you drive like a bat of hell, and you eat fried bacon for breakfast every morning, well, shit, someone should give you a party for making it to sixty-seven, eh??

My birthday falls in that awkward time of the year, as far as weather goes. Its officially spring, but it's usually still cold. And in some parts of the country, it's even snowing. When I was growing up in Milwaukee it was almost guaranteed there would be snow on my birthday. I'm not fond of snow, unless it's Christmas. So, this always bummed me out. The weather is so if-fy this time of year that you can't really plan anything fun outdoors, like a nice birthday cook-out. I've always envied summer birthdays for this reason.

I get depressed during my birthday. Not usually because I'm older; when I hit 30 four years ago it didn't even phase me like it does most people. But I get depressed because I would love to have a big party and just be with my friends and family, saying "Hey, I've made it another year! A big accomplishment, all things considered!" Just laugh and have fun and celebrate my life.

Kinda like a wake, actually...that's a sad thought.

Sometimes when a guy says no he means no...
My mother-in-law stopped by this afternoon for a visit. I was finishing up the phone calls when she came in. As my husband, Josh, ran around trying to get dressed (even though I knew she was coming over and told Josh several times that she was coming over, he still seemed completely caught off guard by her arrival...) I tried to get my four year old, Alex, to finish his lunch and move out of the kitchen we were using. As I'm trying not to argue with Alex infront of Nana (because he'll tell on me if I'm mean to him,) Josh begins yelling, "Waldo's bleeding! He's in Matt's room! He's got blood all over him!"

Waldo is our orange and white Tomcat. He's the sweetest cat you can ever imagine with such a wonderful temperment. Alex carries him around like a ragdoll and he never says a word. He's so loveable!

Justin, my brother,and I head upstairs to my older son, Matt's room, to see what's going on. Waldo was under the bed, nursing some kind of wound. At first, I thought he was licking his...well...is "rear-end" a politically correct term? And my first thought was, "Well, that will save me some money on the neutering bill!" But it was actually his tail: there's a two-three inch wide gash in his tail. I couldn't tell if it were deep -he had no interest in anyone being near it. This sweet and gentle cat bushed up and sounded-off like he wasn't letting anyone near his tail-end! And he meant it.

Justin and I finally cornered him. I tried bandaging it, fearing it would get infected. That was just dumb. Not only did Justin get scratched up in the process, but Waldo immediately turned around and tore the gauze off. Then he cursed at me in Cat-lish (I believe that's his language...) He then took off.

What was that noise...?I finally get that situation in control and sat down to talk with my mother-in-law. As I do, Justin decides he's going to make himself a hamburger for lunch. Alex asks for a hot dog. On the stove sits a burner with the frying hamburger, a burner with a small pot of water containing hot dogs, and a burner that had my ceramic crock from my crockpot sitting on it. I had used the crockpot the day before to make corned beef, and was waiting for Josh to drain the cooking water from it and put the crockpot in the dishwasher.

It never got that far. Justin turned the wrong burner on for the hot dogs. The burner with the crockpot on it ended up on. Now, ceramic pots made for crockpots are made for low heat, not burner heat.

Kaboom!

That's right: the bottom exploded off of the ceramic. Yes, the whole bottom. Yes, exploded. It was the weirdest sound I've ever heard. And I've never seen Justin jump so high in my life!

I ran in to make sure he was alright and help him clean up. By this time, my mother in law had decided there were several other places she could be that were much safer than being with Justin and me. So she left.

The crockpot fiasco over, the family and I went out for the evening. We stopped at a bookstore first, so I could pick up a gift for my brother for his birthday (got him the "101 Ways to Cook Ramen Noodles" cookbook. You'd have to know him well to know why that's hilarious...)

It was better than a full gainer...
It's raining. The parking lot has many little potholes filled with rain in it. How easy it would be to twist your ankle in one of those holes!

And down I go. Not just a stumble, or a trip; not a little lurch or a slight wobble. No. A full-fledge fall. Not a down-on-one-knee, oh I need some help balancing fall. A full face-plant onto the asphault.

Oh, it gets better.

I didn't just fall down with total clumsy embarrassment...no. That wouldn't be my style. If you're going to do something, do it right. I had so much momentum going when I fell that I did a Captain Kirk roll through the parking lot, ending up on my back like a damn turtle on the highway.

Yessir.

I landed in a puddle. I spent the rest of our time out, which, thanks to the total ignorance of the four males I live with, was an unsympathetically long, four hour tour of Louisville and every store/restaurant in it, wet. Wet from my back, down my behind, to my ankles. Yes, ankles. It was a glorious fall.

My offspring, being the little demon-seed they are, laughed hysterically at me, as Josh immediately yanked me off the ground in what seemed to be an act born less out of concern and more out of embarrassment that his wife was roll-pollying herself across the parking lot.

You're laughing at me too, aren't you?

That's ok. Looking back on it, it was funny. Sure, I'm hurt. At my age with my health problems you can't fall and not get hurt. Yeah, I'm stiff this morning. But as long as you all had a good laugh, hell, it's worth it.