(whisper: look who’s 40.)
Oh my gosh you guys. Oh. My. Gosh. Someone in our household has turned 40. And I’m 30…and he weighs more than 12 pounds. So...I'll let you use a little deductive reasoning on this one:
Not that ANYONE would believe it. Seriously. Paul looks younger than I do and CERTAINLY has not been utilizing sunblock until very recently.
This monumental occasion took place on July 21st.
Here’s how the day went:
7:00 a.m. – Paul leaves for work while I proceed to move into a DIAGONAL position across the bed and fall back asleep.
1:00 p.m. – I call Paul to see if he’s gone home to let the dogs out yet. Paul asks what I'm up to. Not until I verbally say the words, “Oh, Mom and Mike just bought me a fabulous lunch” do I realize what an asshole I am. (Like, why would he want to join us for lunch on his birthday?)
8:30 p.m. – A group of 15 people sing Paul happy birthday in the middle of a restaurant as we all watch him fight off the equivalent of a grand mal seizure in the world of being uncomfortable. It. Was. Awesome.
So here I am, about to make him go into minor convulsions again, but you guys! YOU GUYS! I can’t help it. Look!!!!! Look at him as a baby!!!!!!
(he’s probably like, 3 days old here).
And look look look!
And look at this one where he’s carrying his little books!!!!
I can’t help it. If I could squeeze these pictures and call them my fluffy, I would.
Every day, as I re-adjust my position in the bed when he leaves it to make myself MORE comfortable...just after I give his crisp, scope cleaned mouth a kiss good-bye with the ass breath that I’ve developed as a result of a full night of open-mouthed breathing, I realize how damn lucky I am.
Because in the 4th grade, when I was wiping boogers on the bottom of my desk and using my chapstick to wax the cork of my alto saxophone, this guy was the captain of the football team.
(Actually when I put our age difference in those terms, it’s kind creepy. But you get my point.)
But hey, it's too late for him to back out now. Remember when you did this, honey?
(see how I look really happy and he has this look like WTF did I just do???)
But hey, it's too late. And now a baby makes three. This shit’s in the bag. You’re stuck with me, honey.
Happy birthday, baby.