
I remember when birthdays were a whole day of celebration. Shoot if I’m being honest, I’ve been known to draw them out into whole weekends and may have occasionally tried to stretch them into weeks. I’m going to blame that on my only child syndrome and the fact that my husband rarely tells me no. Not out of fear, but love I’m sure.
As I am writing this blog from my brand new peaceful writing space, I can hear the kids fighting. I’m almost certain that they are zapping each other with the bark collar. I’m sure a good mom would go out and break it up, but I’m just going to continue to zone out and listen to the spa channel. Note to self a lock on this door would be nice. “Alexa turn it up to six”
My husband is always the first to wish me a happy birthday. Of course he has the advantage of being the first person that I see when I open my eyes, so there’s that. This year he physically gifted me 2 notebooks and a pen. What I don’t think that he realized was that what he actually gifted me was so much more. He gifted me the knowledge and reassurance that he listens to me and has my back. He acknowledges my dream and 100% supports me no matter what. He set up a writing area with a table and a chair in our spare room. Its not just a table and a chair though. Its the table that was in the family room of my in laws house. My Mother in law and Father in law are both gone and any chance that I can get to incorporate them somehow into our daily life, I try.

Unfortunately I wasn’t feeling the best yesterday but none the less my day was full of love. My morning started out with a dentist appointment for Brogan. The last of his appointments to get some fillings done. I’m not sure why my kids have an issue with shoes but apparently they fear something tragic will happen if then actually put their shoes on prior to arriving at our destination. Every single time I’m left standing waiting for them to tie their shoes. Suddenly I don’t mind crocs or slides. I get it, I’m almost sure those were invented by a mom that was at a loss like me.
I dropped him off at home and headed to my girlfriend Jen’s house for coffee. I know everyone doesn’t have a forever friend but she’s been mine for 31 years. I decided since it was my birthday I would treat myself to a foo foo coffee. I swung through the Biggby drive thru and ordered a cup of caramel something full of sugar and whipped cream. I mean It was my birthday, what the hell? I got to her house and slugged down that Iced goodness. We sat outside and laughed and talked about everything and nothing. Then it hit. The tummy started churning. I knew there was no way I was going to make it home in time and if you cant poop at your besties house do they even qualify for the title? Little did I know that the bathroom fan actually blows out into the laundry room. I’m always good for a laugh if nothing else.

I was feeling a bit better but still a little off. I wanted to go to Hobby Lobby now that I had a room to call my own. I have a style in the rest of the house, but I was looking for something different. I swung home to grab Addison. I don’t venture far alone these days. There’s comfort in having someone in case I need something, or someone. I know it sounds absolutely ridiculous. I’m not sure if its my anxiety on 10 and will get better as time goes on, or if this feeling is here to stay. Either way I grabbed my mini me and we headed out. Now she’s at the age that we can separate in a store. She has her phone and honestly if there was a zombie apocalypse I’ve got all my money on her. I ended up grabbing 3 pictures. Everything else we used I already had.

We put the room together last night and Chuck had a good chuckle about my shelf decoration choices. A shoe stretcher, a pully and an old wooden ruler. Yup, they were my father in laws and I have just been waiting for the right place to display them. They are perfect.


My birthday dinner was chicken noodle soup from Chic-fil-A. Eaten while sporting stretchy pants and a tank top, no makeup, nap hair and hormonal acne . Things are only looking up from here.

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