Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Birthday Bliss

Today is my birthday, and after much thought, I have determined I'm now 36. (I spent several days last week thinking about how amazing it was that I was about to turn 35. Whoops.)

This is how my day began:

7:15 ~ Levi stands on my bed and sings "Happy Birthday to you, cha-cha-cha"

7:30 ~ We gather for family prayer before Mark leaves for work. He's too late for scripture study today and since the kids are out of school we all got a slow start. Logan informs me that he has placed a menu on my pillow and I am to go back upstairs to order my breakfast in bed. Do I want to do this? No--I've been down this path before and I know where it leads. But I don't want to crush Logan's good intentions so back to bed I go.

7:45 ~ I sit in bed trying to read while listening to what surely are the sounds of destruction and waste in the kitchen below.

7:50 ~ Voices and tempers rise as Roscoe tries to get in on the cafe action and bring me my orange juice. Roscoe: "I'm the waiter! I bring her the drink!" Logan: "But the manager tells her we're out of orange juice!"

7:55 ~ I am served with 0.5 ounces of orange juice dregs and two slices of cold, overcooked toast with gobs of butter. Approximately three children bounce with glee on my bed while I try to eat it.

8:05 ~ As another birthday gift, Roscoe awakens Jesse and changes his diaper. Then deposits his grumpy, drowsy little self on my bed. I ask Logan to bring Jesse a cup of milk. Logan, still in gentile service mode, agrees. But he fails to screw the lid of the sippy cup on properly and poor Jesse ends up dowsing himself and my comforter. "That's it," I cry as I throw back the covers. Duvet cover off, Jesse wiped down, all food back in kitchen. "Will you guys all please just go get dressed?"

Happy birthday, mom!

1 comment:

  1. Remember how birthdays used to mean no chores? Motherhood wipes that away pretty quickly I guess. I always try to do that for Richard since I want it so badly - but I think it's different for the Daddy to take a day off than the Mommy. Sister Beck was right - we really don't get time off.

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