Today is my birthday. I'm 42 years old today. I'm ok with that..... really I am. I feel like I'm 20. When I remember being a teenager and my parents were in their late 30's... my God, they seemed so old to me. And their friends were old too! I shudder to think that is how teenage kids look at me. ugh.
I'm not doing anything special today. I rearranged my livingroom for the 400th time because I needed to have an area to put my sewing machine. What am I sewing, you ask? I have no idea but I wanted a machine so I bought one. I have these grand ideas of wanting to quilt or make Barbie clothes. WTF is up with that? Why do I have the urge to sew clothes small enough to drive me insane.
My mother, bless her heart, is making my favorite cake of all..... Whoopie Pie cake. Take a look at that chocolately goodness! It is going to taste just like a giant homemade whoopie pie. I can't wait to have a big slice of that! And if I have to, I'll share it.
Every year on my birthday for as long as I can remember, my dad always told me the same story. He relates how tiny I was when he brought me home from the hospital after I was born. There was a huge blizzard that day and the driveway wasn't shoveled out. He had to wade through over knee-deep snow to get to the house and I was so tiny he put me in his shirt pocket to keep me warm. I know he's full of shit now but when I was a little girl, this story made me feel all cozy and warm and loved. When I hear it now, I get a little melancholy....missing the innocence that enables a child to believe anything. My mother remembers that day differently. Yes, there was a blizzard and they did have to wade through snow. I was not a tiny baby.... I was her biggest kid... 8lbs 10oz. My dad did carry me into the house and left her behind to wade in the snow and carry her suitcase.