No, I'm not even kidding. Had Jackson not said something to me this morning, my birthday could have come and gone with no fanfare. No fuss. No dessert.
Quite frankly, that's not the kind of world I want to live in.
So my birthday is on Tuesday, March 10. It's a really glorious day usually and I don't care that I'm getting older, I still genuinely love my birthday. I love everything about it. I'm always so happy on my birthday (I made it another year!!), I enjoy eating cake and other desserts in mass quantities, I like presents, I like the hand made cards my kids always make me, and I love free stuff with coupons emailed to me.
I like having as much fuss over my birthday as possible. Always have, always will. You better believe whatever nursing home I land in better recognize otherwise I'm going to be a nurse's nightmare if cupcakes are not had and there are not balloons. And honestly, Matt might be dead and I wouldn't turn down a male stripper, but only if my heart medication is still working. Otherwise I'll settle for watching Magic Mike again because by then, it'll be a cinematic classic I'm sure.
But THIS YEAR, it feels different. Mostly because I clearly have no plans. Cripes, I almost forgot the damn day all together. Which means if I'm not making plans, Matt probably forgot it's just around the corner as well, so I need to step up my game so he doesn't forget.
The downer here is that as of this second, we're planning on going to night one of our two day labor/delivery class that night. So, that's kind of a buzz kill. I could make friends and bring cupcakes but I kind of don't want to share, so I'll skip that. But maybe Matt can take me out for dinner or something. I'm going to lunch with a friend, but he can definitely bring me to dinner. I also feel like I should still get a cake. (Preferably an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen OR the "Cheesecake Named Desire" cake from Cold Stone Creamery.)
As for presents, I kind of don't really know. Just kidding! I totally know!
You know I hate Oprah and her book club picks are almost always so terrible that I want to scream and gouge my own eye out while writing a "this books sucks, end your terrible book club now" letter. But I have had so many friends say how great this book was so I'm getting sucked in.
These pajamas. In large. I've discovered I have zero pajamas to wear to the hospital. I remember being notoriously cold there and quite frankly, I refuse to wear a hospital gown longer than I need to, and if people are going to come visit, I'd rather not look like a mess. So these are cute. I also have anxiety on what I will wear on the way there and the way back. But that's for another day.
Gift cards. I am so far behind in scrapbooking it isn't even funny. My plan is to at least get our Florida vacation album done (from 2013) and maybe start on Penelope's baby book. AND I have to get supplies to start making baby announcements. My goal is to have those pre-made so that all I have to do is insert a picture and mail them when she's born.
Other than that? I really can't think of anything. Which is terrible because usually I can come up with this gigantic list of awesomeness. Right now though, all I can think about is Penelope. Everything kind of revolves around her right now.
Needless to say, I'm sure I'll have a great birthday. I don't feel weird about turning 33 at all. I feel like I'm in my prime, like I've kind of found a groove in life and I'm just going with it. I'm pretty optimistic about my future, and there isn't anything I regret from my past per say, so I'm doing alright.