Sunday, Adam and I got one year older and wiser too.
We had a lovely weekend of celebrating. It was a shower of phone calls and texts and gifts and shout outs on facebook and a nice dinner at Geri's. Also Janet brought me lava cakes and a tub of homemade whipped cream. (Do you have a Janet in your life yet? You seriously need one. You can't have mine though...)
Olivia even wrote a post about me on her blog that reminded me of things I had forgotten all about. (A hazard of advancing years, perhaps.)
Our children...didn't give gifts. I'm not the kind of mother that says, "Oh, that's OK, my gift from you is being your mother." Ha. I want a gift, even if it's a scribbled message on a scrap of paper. And they know it.
They tried to get me to make them feel better about it but I wouldn't take the bait. Tough love, people.
Braeden said, "I am sorry I didn't get you a gift."
I said, "That's OK, it's just that gifts are my love language..."
Emma said, "I feel terrible that I forgot!"
I said, "That's OK, it's like that year I forgot your birthday...oh, wait. That never happened."
Mark said, "I glued something together for dad for his gift. If you had anything broken, I'd give you a gift too."
I said, "Thanks."
(I may have said it a little sarcastically though.)
Adam's gift to me was Vitamin D in the form of sunshine in the form of a trip to Phoenix. (More on that later.) At the airport, Emma texted me a gift. (Earlier she'd snapped several pictures of me and I didn't know why.)
The pictures range from ugly to scary but they made me laugh.
I love those little turkeys. Even without the gifts.