What I Did On My Birthday

I think karma kicked me in the butt today. The kids didn't remember my birthday, and when Gil figured out it was my birthday while I was talking to Zen on the phone, it kind of went in one ear and out the other: "When's your birthday?" "Exactly today." "Oh, okay." And on to the next item on his agenda. It's just bad karma. No big deal. I'm pretty scroogie about all kinds of celebrations, just don't get into hoopla in general, and so my kids are pretty non-celebretory. I feel sorry for my grandchildren already.

Today, I woke up (notice I didn't say got up), and lazed about in bed a little, reading. Then, when Emma woke up, I got up with her, read a little more, then decided to quit being a heathen, showered, dressed, fed the kids breakfast. I cleaned up a little, then drove a video over to Gil at the high school because he forgot to take it back, then went grocery shopping at Wal-Mart and Smith's (oh, goodie), came home, put away groceries, fed the kids lunch, had a nap that went on too long (I am just the nap queen now that I'm pregnant, was I ever this tired with the other ones? I'm getting too old for this business), read a little, made dinner, tried to watch an episode of Lie to Me while settling several arguments, made orange bread pudding, got the kids ready for bed, read scriptures with them, read stories to Connor, dished up some bread pudding, lazed in bed watching episodes of The Mentalist, thereby staying up too late, will pay for it tomorrow, and now I will attempt to fall asleep.

But my birthday gift was getting to hang out with my family women friends, scrapbooking this weekend, thanks in part to Dani, who did an awesome job babysitting at Grammie's house Friday night. Thanks, chick.

Will post on all that soon, when I finish my die-cut tree page. Katy knows what I'm talking about. It's the anal side of my personality coming out, not the side that takes care of my house, the house of shame.