Sunday, May 9, 2010

Good Vintage


The short girl's mode for taking pictures

If you wish to know how it feels to be forty, I believe I can sum it up in one concise adjective: it feels tard. Which if you live in the South you know that tard is quite a step above just plain old tired. Tard is my body hurts. Tard is my eyes ache. Tard is not getting my husband's jokes at all.

Tard is how I felt the full nine months of each pregnancy with 1-3 toddlers hanging off my bloated ankles. I do not feel quite that tard. But close.

Once when I was pregnant I went up to Walker's Grandmother Ruth and said, "Do you feel like you're pregnant? Because I say every morning that I feel like an 85 year old woman. And since you are an 85 year old woman I was just wondering if you ever wake up and said, boy, I feel like I'm pregnant?"

She laughed. I think she doesn't quite know what to make of me sometimes.

The overwhelming sense of tard might have something to do with my weekend, which was really and truly fabulous.

Friday, my actual birthday, my children awakened me with breakfast in bed of flaxseed pancakes (just say no) and fruit and coffee. Groggy though I was, I summoned the extreme skills required not to spill everything while four children jumped all over the bed and sang happy birthday over and over. Four very, very cute children. Then, after taking Maggie to the allergist where Ike whined for the entire two hours it took to receive some very upsetting news (more on that later), I took her to school and put Whiney Whinekenstein to bed.

Usually on my birthday I give myself a mani/pedi. But when one is on living the the Adoption Lifestyle, one must improvise.

So I gave myself the gift of a nap. Because it's my birthday and I'll nap if I want to. Nap if I want to. Nap if I want to.

You would nap too if 40 happened to you.

Bom bom bom bom, bom.

Later that evening, a huge team of us gathered together for Heather's birthday party at Pappasito's. Wasn't that convenient that I got to go have fajitas and girl time on my birthday without having to organize it? Then Heather lured us back to her house under the auspice of playing cards, but really she just wanted us all to come and discuss how difficult it is to raise malechilds when you happen to be a female.

Then I drove home (late, very late) and left almost a whole go box of beef fajitas in my car over night. MAN that makes me mad.

Can we have a moment of silence for the delicious next day lunch that never was?

Thanks.

Saturday, Walker took the kiddos sans Whiney on a huge daddy driving adventure - I really don't know what it involved, I just know that hours later, dirty, tard children appeared with another go box containing hot dogs and fries that did absolutely nothing to soothe my loss. While the destructors were away, with my momma's help, I busted my badonkadonk getting this house clean for my BIRTHDAY PARTY!!

Walker asked me a while back what I wanted to do - well, okay, I actually said, "You realize I'm turning 40. You realize you need to do something." and he said, "What do you want?" and I said, "I want all my friends to come over for wine and stinky cheese." To which he replied, "Really? That's what you want?"

Oh yes indeed. Friends, fermentation and mold, lots of mold.
There's your glimpse into Missy Heaven.

So they came - a lot of them came. And because the Adoption Lifestyle does not provide for huge parties, they even provided their own refreshments. And my kids stayed up later than they have since Christmas. And I could not have had more fun.

When one of them was leaving, he remarked, "You guys have a lot of really cool friends."

Oh, amen sir, amen.

And Sunday we went to brunch at a new favorite restaurant, Peli Peli, and afterwards the kids played in the water fountain. Because I believe fountains are for wading.


But when 40 year old women party like 20 year old women for a whole weekend, it makes them feel like 85 year old women.

(Yawn) I think I feel another nap coming on...



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