Happy Birthday To Me.

Today is my birthday.  I've been on this planet for thirty-eight years.  I learned long ago that birthdays, though special, are also just one of 365 days.  And on that note I rang in my birthday with a midnight vacuuming of the living room.  This morning I ran a load of dishes and also managed to finish a couple of loads of laundry.  This afternoon I cleaned my daughters' room.  

On the bright side I squeezed in a morning bike ride (if you want legs of a behemoth try pumping a bike uphill with a 60# parachute, aka bike trailer). 

 My husband also took me to lunch; mmmm - crispy crab sandwich.   The family gave me a pepper mill and asian wire strainer.  These will come in quite handy when I attempt to fry up the zucchini blossoms growing in our garden.  

I thought the perfect end to my day would be to walk with the kids to the library and farmer's market (the husband had to work).  I thought wrong. 

Things started out innocent enough.  An ice cream truck passed as we left the neighborhood.  The girls were giddy and each bought a popsicle.  But the sugar high was short-lived. As we neared the library things went swiftly downhill.  Middle daughter was thirsty.  She was about to perish. And she desperately wanted her OWN library card.  

This is not a new discussion.  I like to keep all our checked out items on one card so I know what is due and when.  And middle daughter does not have a strong history of responsibility. She's been told that if she demonstrates responsible behavior then she could earn her own library card.  

"But how?" she moans (as if sounding like an injured seal is likely to make me change my mind). 

"By taking care of your room," I reply through gritted teeth. This conversation is all too familiar and I know where the trail leads.  

"But I don't like that!"

"Well part of responsibility is doing things you don't like." 

 (In an alternate reality I'd have already strangled her but in this world part of being responsible is avoiding public strangulation and as such I demonstrated my role admirably.  Her head remains firmly attached to her body).  

Middle daughter proceeded to pout and stomp her way though the library.  At checkout time my youngest daughter was taking the security cases off our movies.  It seems middle daughter also wanted to participate.  They managed to get into a SHOUTING MATCH in the lobby.  Then middle daughter shoved my son who was trying to reason with her.  I stood between them and shoved them both to break it up (Parenting 101: Proper Ways to Shove Children in Public).  

Gaaah.  So I threatened to go straight home and skip the market.  

"Noooo mom.  Nooooo! We'll be good."  

Yeah right.  When has a promise like that ever panned out?   But I wanted to go to the market and it was my birthday. 

They were each given a $3.00 spending budget.  Middle daughter immediately bought a drink for $2.50 that she didn't like.  It ended up in the garbage.  Then she borrowed a dollar from her sister to buy a brownie.   In the meantime little sister freaked out because she only had two dollars.  I gave her another dollar.  She wanted candy.  The farmer's market does not have candy.  They have cookies and brownies and rice krispy treats and candied nuts and lemonade and blueberries and cherries and all kinds of other goodies that most children would love.  But no.  Not her.  CANDY!

That was it.  We left.  Picture a woman, thirty-eight-years old (to be exact) lips pursed pushing a stroller.  In the stroller is a five-year-old frantically waving three dollars and shrieking, "I WANT TO EAT SOMETHING!  MOMMY I WANT TO EAT!"  

Lucky for us we still had a mile walk uphill.  So, yes, happy birthday to me.  Those same children are now peacefully playing Jenga together on our wood floor.  Go figure. 

And now it seems the laundry and dishes beckon.  They will pair well with an entire bottle of wine.  

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I had another topic, another post, for today.  It seems it will have to wait.  

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