My dirty laundry multiplies like little bunnies.
Except not so cute--I don't want to pet it.
It was my birthday over the weekend. It was fun
-a clean house
-to play a game with my kids
which ended up being things that they probably wanted to do LEAST of all. Three-fifths of them suffered through part of a game of Settlers of Catan before we threw in the towel, and I tried to pretend I wasn't looking while they begrudgingly tidied up in honor of the occasion.
(Note to self: next year, clean house BEFORE birthday, and tell the kids you want to play a few hours of video games, listen to loud music, tease the cats, eat ice cream sundaes and throw all cares to the wind in honor of your day)
Shopping opportunities were nil, as we packed our days with the final home football game of the season, pasta parties, soccer games and a full day at UMass in Amherst, where we were treated to marching band clinics, a football game and amazing performances by the university marching band. I did find a homemade scrapbook on my pillow, enjoyed a short visit from my twin sister of Ohio and ate almost an entire angel food cake singlehandedly, which added up to reserving my spot in heaven.
Monday afternoon, as I was waiting for an Rx in Target, two youth-ly figures went running past me, shrouded in their sweatshirts. My mom-radar picked up on their if-my-face-is-covered-you-can't-see-me plan of attack, and I laughed as they rounded the corner. Later in the kitchen, I was presented with a 42-ounce bag of peanut m&ms and a dvd. THEN, the arrival home of Mr. Dub and his promise of a new birthday chair. Extended birthday bliss.
Lastly, I spent the first half of yesterday hanging out with babies and toddlers, and the last part of my day making surprise visits to women in a few surrounding towns as part of my Relief Society responsibilities.
Then I came home to find a letter from Yonder waiting in my inbox.
I went to bed feeling pretty great. Tired, but great.