Yesterday morning I woke up another year older (31 to be exact) and was greeted by Ethan screaming, "Had-A-Burfday mommy!" Followed by a rendition of 'Happy Birthday' that I'm pretty sure most would not be familiar with. After 11 months of prompting, encouraging and demonstrating, the little Miss decided to say, 'mama' for the first time! My kiddos sure know how to pick out the perfect birthday gifts! Brent was so sweet to grab some take-out and then prepare an amazing dessert of chocolate lava cake and homemade buttermilk ice cream...A-M-A-Z-I-N-G. Then we put the kiddos to bed and caught up on an episode of LOST. My family sure knows the way to my heart! It was such a wonderful birthday.
There's one gift my mom gives me every year. She calls first thing in the morning to wish me a happy birthday, and then she tells me the story of my birthday. She shares in vivid detail the entire day, what she was doing before going into labor, how she was craving jell-o, the nerves of not knowing what to expect, the nurses, the doctor (who was the same doctor that delivered Brent...how cute is that?), reminds me that I was almost born on March 10th, and finally what it was like holding me for the first time. The way I looked, the smells, my skin, even the little bubbles I was blowing. I'm really not a narcissistic person, there is just something special about hearing your mother remember vivid details about the day she first became a mother. She always concludes her story with a sigh and says, "I will never forget that day. Here it is, years later, and I still remember every detail." I've never told her how I look forward to that call each year. Or how, now that I'm a mom, I totally get how you remember every last detail of your children's birth.
Here I am getting all sappy and sentimental. This is the part where I let out a nervous laugh, wipe my eyes and blow my nose. Ahem.
I should wrap this up now. Birthday's over and laundry is waiting.