So, I started out my thirty-second year on Earth by learning a very important lesson, which was: Toddlers don’t give two poops that it’s your birthday.
I love MB to pieces, of course, but yesterday she made me feel every minute as old as I am. I probably sprouted a few gray hairs, too. Not that you’ll ever see them.
On days like yesterday, every kick from Baby B compounds the fear of having two Wedekind babies to manage. [And it must come from Lee’s side, because I have it on good authority that I was a perfect. angel.]
But as you can see, it’s way–WAY–too late for second thoughts, which I think is the way God intended it to be.
Then I woke up this morning to Little Miss Sunshine.
And I remembered why I breathe deeply and get through the rough days, even when the rough day is my birthday: because one kiss from this little smacker makes my insides melt.
And speaking of melting [butter, that is], my precious husband made the most amazing Bearnaise sauce last night to go with our steaks, and the photos have somehow been deleted. [I’m still learning the camera!] That went a long way toward easing my soul at the end of a hard day, too. If you love someone as much as Lee must love me [and God only knows why he does], you might want to give it a whirl.
Happy Weekend! MB and I will be checking in remotely from our [perhaps insane] roadtrip to North Carolina and Virginia next week, but if posts are rare, forgive us. We will be back eventually. [If I don’t decide to start squatting in Rachel’s house, never to return. Strong possibility. Lee would visit us, right?]