Yesterday was the best birthday I’ve had in a long time.

Both kids went to school, which is a joy unto itself. After dropping Oliver off, I went to my father’s for breakfast. He had cinnamon buns, bacon, orange slices, tomatoes and mayonnaise (a family favourite) and a bottle of really, really good white wine. It was Teh Awesome.

Dave worked from home yesterday and offered to pick up lunch from wherever I wanted. I had onion rings for the first time in a long time and goddamn, they were good.

Oliver made me a gigantic, fluffy gingerbread cookie at school and watched, beaming, as I ate it.

My family came for dinner – pizza, wings, beer and chocolate cake. The cake was gooey and fudgy and I loved every single sinful bite.

It was very much a gluttonous birthday. I plan on repeating that theme next year. And the year after that.

Promises were made by my children —

Julia: “I won’t make fun of you on your birthday, Mummy!”

Oliver: “And I won’t hit anyone at your party!”

— and were upheld, though my son did have a pre-dinner meltdown that stretched through mealtime and didn’t end until well after he’d been put to bed.

After dinner and cake Dave handed me a pink gift bag full of fabulous dollar store finds: dish sponges (individually wrapped, so as to create the illusion of more gifts), body wash, a soap-dispensing dish scrubber and a shiny silver whisk, an item he has been asking me to pick up for days.

“It’s just what you’ve always wanted!” I exclaimed when I opened it.

And just when I thought Jesus H., those were my honest-to-god gifts, Julia appeared with another gift bag.

Inside that bag?

An iPod.  AN iPOD!

And not just an iPod…it took me a few minutes before I realized that it was an iTouch. A fucking iTouch!

Dave has never surprised me with a ‘big’ gift like this before. I never, ever thought he’d get me an iTouch, especially given the fact that he is, and I quote, “between iPods right now.” For him to have bought me an iTouch (which my father and brother pitched in on) when he doesn’t even have an iPod right now…well, that speaks volumes to me. It may seem silly to some, but you have to understand Dave and his love of gadgets. I often joke that I am a satellite/electronics/computer widow; for him to buy me something that he himself wants VERY BADLY…well, that’s a big deal.

I love it. I was up until midnight playing with it. I filled the calendar, added contacts; organized my life. I scrolled through album covers and watched the video for the new Metallica song. I checked my email IN BED THIS MORNING.

Brilliant.

Thanks for all the birthday wishes, guys! I think being thirty-one ain’t gonna be so bad at all.

53 Comments | In: life, in general | tags: birthdays, cinnamon buns and white wine, gluttony, surprises, Teh Awesome. | #

There are many things that I love about my husband, but his gift-giving ability is not one of them. Typically, his gifts to me have been of the “lowest common denominator” variety, such as the bath set from the Liquidation Depot complete with labels warning me that prolonged exposure to said products could cause skin irritations, underwear adorned with fun catchphrases like There’s a new Sherrif in town! and Mario’s cheese steaks – they’re HOT!, the 35-piece, black and white polka-dotted makeup bag kit (just what a woman who doesn’t wear makeup needs!), the t-shirts from Value Village and, my favourite, the sentiment-charged scratch n’ win tickets.

Now, usually I’m an ‘it’s the thought that counts’ kind of person, but, between you and me, there have been a few times when I’ve wished Dave would surprise me with something fabulous. Something that’s frivolous, over the top, completely unexpected…and maybe, just maybe, something that’s got a little sparkle to it, if you know what I mean.

In anticipation of today, my thirty-first birthday, I did something that I don’t usually do – I offered up a specific request when Dave asked what I might like: an iPod, something I’ve wanted for a long time. Even though Dave’s follow-through record is pretty good when it comes to specific requests, there’s still a part of me that is wary of opening up a three-pack of turtlenecks or a case of Wint-o-Fresh gum from my husband this evening – which, judging from the conversation we had yesterday, is a very real possibility.

“I can’t wait to open my present tomorrow and see what kind of body wash you got me from Liquidation World,” I said, adding, “And you know, I’m only half-teasing.”

He started to laugh – the silent kind of laughter that sounds like the beginnings of an asthma attack – and snorted a few times, too.

“If you think that’s what I’ve got for you,” he said, pausing momentarily to launch into another wheezy/asthma laughter attack, “then you really do know me.”

Happy Birthday to me!

48 Comments | In: aw, shit!, life with dave, life, in general | tags: another year older but not a day over 17, birthdays, discount gifts, husbands, iPods, the art of gift-giving. | #

Dear Oliver,

Friday, August 1, 2008

You are outside right now, rocking back and forth with your sister and your beloved Tutu, the doll Julia got for Christmas last year that you haven’t put down since. Will you remember her when you’re older? She’s always stark naked and you recently took a marker to her head and really did a number on it (LOOK, MUMMY! I GAVE TUTU A TATTOO!), but my god, do you love that doll. She goes to preschool with you every day and is second only to the giant stuffed Elmo that you spoon every night.

Something tells me you won't soon forget Tutu.

I’m on the sun porch, watching you swing with Julia (and Tutu, of course), and I’m thinking about you: how you’ll be three on Sunday, and how I can’t believe that you’ll be THREE – wasn’t it yesterday that you arrived, all nine pounds of you, in the middle of an insufferable heat wave? Wasn’t it yesterday that the nurse wrapped you up like a little cocoon and placed you in my arms so I could touch my nose to yours and whisper to you, my beautiful brand new boy, Oliver, hello my love, you’re finally here…

It goes without saying that I love you, but is it possible for me to be in love with you? Because most of the time it feels that way. My love for you is endless, boundless; all-encompassing. It comes from every pore, every cell, every part of me; it is a love that, at times, catches me by surprise – its strength, its ferocity, the depth of it…never ceases to amaze me.

It’s constant. You are my constant.

Saturday, August 2, 2008

When I get up you are downstairs in the kitchen, perched on a chair mixing pancake batter with Daddy. I wrap my arms around your small frame and rest my cheek against your head, breathing in your sweet little boy smell (I love the way you smell, Oliver; if I could bottle it up and wear it as perfume, I would).

You pause, briefly letting go of the big mixing spoon to wrap your arms around mine and lean in to me. “Do you know what today is, buddy?” I murmur in your ear.

“What?” With your head still resting against my arm, you reach for the mixing spoon.

“It’s your party,” I say softly. I manage one last squeeze before you unlace your arms from mine and look up at me. You flash me a huge grin; your eyes dance, corners crinkled. “Yeah!” You look excitedly from your father to me. “My party!”

Your father and I smile and exchange a content, yet sentimental glance: our son will be three tomorrow.

Sunday, August 3, 2008

The last of the night’s stragglers have left and the house is finally quiet. It’s late, and I’m tired, but I slip between the cool sheets and snuggle against you. I trace my finger down the line of your arm, and when you roll over and burrow in to my chest I whisper to you. It’s here, your birthday is here; happy birthday my love, and suddenly I am flooded with emotion: love and pride and the importance of this day, this monumental day in my life, in our lives, and as the tears spring up, hot and prickly, you raise your hand and press it against my forearm and rub gently, sleepily.

“I love you so much, Mummy,” you whisper; your hand sliding gently from my arm as you slip back to sleep.

“I love you so much too, Oliver,” I whisper back.

Happy Birthday, my beautiful boy.

35 Comments | In: life with oliver, motherhood | tags: birthdays, family, love, special things. | #