Starting My Next Year With a Bang

Some birthdays are better than others. My sixteenth birthday was a lot of fun. Boo surprised me by hiding in the coat closet and when I went to get my jacket he grabbed me and delivered a kiss so steamy if my father had noticed, Boo would have been seriously injured.

My 27 birthday sucked rotten eggs as I watched my child struggle to live through a blood infection that was intent on killing him. That sucked. No amount of birthday cake or bday wishes from the cute residents could turn that birthday around. My thirtieth birthday rocked. Best birthday to date. Until my son died 24 days later. Kinda killed the whole 'rocking my 30's' mojo I had going on.

So waking up to discover I was not only infected by the plague but looking and feeling like death warmed over on my 32nd birthday wasn't really as devastating as one would think. Particularly since the hubs was absent and the only celebrating I had in mind was to curl up on the couch and watch whatever channel was the least fuzzy out of the three I have to pick from.

But thank you for all your kind words and birthday wishes. They warmed the dark and fuzzy recesses of my heart and catapulted me above the self-pity that threatened to swallow me whenever I looked in the mirror and saw a monster staring back.

Oh la la. Look at me. I'm sooo sexy.

Freak.

I'm feeling marginally better now. The room has stopped spinning long enough for me to drag ole Racy Red out and get a little dirty.

As my gift of thanks to you, I'm sending you over to view Racy Red's latest sexy exploits.

After all, I may be sick, but I'm not dead.

Red Devil Cake

It's my 32 birthday today and I woke up with an eye infection. In both eyes. I'm trying hard not to read into this and take it as an omen that this year is going to suck sweaty monkey balls. All this means is that I'm plagued by thousands of germs and in no way has any bearing on what my future holds.

Right????

As I stumbled, very bleary eyed, into my kitchen to brew some ambrosia coffee, I called my children to get their asses out of bed.

"Wake up!! It's momma's birthday! Come and make me some breakfast and be my little minions before I ship you off to school."

Instead of being greeted with warm wishes and hugs from the darling creatures I gestated, delivered and have spent the last eleven years chasing after and feeding, I was greeted with horrified gasps and nervous stares.

"Ewwwww! What is the matter with your eyes? You look gross. Freaky," muttered my son as he tried to poke at my infected eyes.

Slapping his hand away, I turned to my daughter hoping she would overlook the freak staring back at her and remember my birthday.

"Mom! That is just disgusting! You're not contagious, right? Please tell me you aren't going to pick us up at school today, looking like that."

"Gee, thanks guys. Good to know my bright red eyes aren't noticeable. Now come and kiss me happy birthday."

Funny, they took two steps backwards. Chuckleheads.

"I don't want to get what you have. But I really love you, Mom. No matter how you look. As long as none of my friends see you looking like that," said Fric as she went to grab the card and gift she had carefully made for me last night when she was supposed to be sleeping.

"If I hug you can I touch your eyeballs?" said Frac as he reached out like E.T. phoning home.

"Only if you want your finger to burn off into a pile of ashes and then walk around with red eyes for the rest of your days," I countered.

"Nah. But I'll give you a kiss, Mom." How gracious of this child of mine who was at that very moment ingesting food I had provided for his consumption.

Leaning in for my kiss, he ducked so he would avoid my diseased face and picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles.

"Gee, thanks, Frac. I'm overwhelmed with love," I said dryly as he was scrubbing his mouth with his sleeve.

"No problem Mom. I love you. I'm sorry you aren't feeling well on your birthday." Aww, my icy heart was beginning to thaw.

"Is it okay if I bring a couple friends over after school so they can see your eyes? I can't wait to freak them out with my creepy mom."

Story of my life. It's a great start to my 32 year. Happy freakin' birthday. Literally, in this case.

Now I have to go find myself a doctor willing to treat this side-show. And buy myself a big-ass cake.

Last night trying to pose for a pic to send their father.

I'm thinking the red eyed devil I've become is more fun. Maybe I should go to the school to see my kids...

It's a Good Thing He Thinks I'm Cute

The hubs was home for four whole days. A lot of liquor was consumed, more pizza than I care to admit and I did my best Gumby impersonation on more than one occasion.

Besides having some quality romantic time , Boo managed to knock a few items off my Honey Do list. Without me bitching at him. NO. REALLY. He did it all on his own. He was just so damn happy to be back at home living with his family, he would have done just about anything in gratitude to show his appreciation of us.

Well, that and the fact that he got a speeding ticket on his way home. The facker was trying to earn his salvation.

Admittedly, neither of us are the perfect spouse. But that doesn't stop us from trying (for about two whole hours) when we see each other.

One of the items on Boo's list of chores to accomplish before his wife's candy store opened for business was for him to get his passport. Other items included giving me a back rub, grilling me a steak and putting his damn laundry away.

(You'd be surprised at the lengths I'd go to avoid putting laundry away.)

First thing Friday morning, we trekked into the city to our nearest passport office. About half way there, Boo slammed on the brakes and looked at me with a wild look of panic in his eye.

"I forgot my birth certificate at home. We have to go back."

"Do you have your driver's license?" Going back home would tack on another hour before we even hit city limits and I was jonesing for a Starbucks coffee.

"Ya, but the papers clearly state I need my birth certificate and I left it on the counter."

Like the dumbass I am, I looked at him and said, "Nah, they don't even look at it. When I went this spring they didn't ask to see it. You'll be fine. I promise. Now get thee to the city so that I may spend obscene amounts of your hard earned cash on calorie-ladled coffee."

"Are you sure?" he asked as he looked at me warily.

"Is the sky blue? Now quit doubting your wife and drive!"

Walking into the passport building and noting the two hundred or so people waiting to see the three government officials stuck in their little kiosk, Boo looked at me and said, "I'm gonna murder you in front of all these people if we wait in this bloody line all damn day only to discover we needed my birth certificate."

"It gets me all hot when you threaten me, pretty boy. Now act like a good boy and get in line with the rest of the lemmings."

Lucky for me we only waited about an hour in a line filled with annoying people before the government official asked for his birth certificate and tsked at us as she sent us packing until we could produce one.

Needless to say, Boo was annoyed. And I narrowly escaped with my life. So yesterday, we went back to the passport office, birth certificate clasped tightly in Boo's oversized paw, and gasped when we saw the length of the line. It seemed to triple over the weekend.

Fack. Double fack.

"You are so not worth this." Boo was annoyed, as he weaved his way to the back of a line that weaved about the building several times. I could feel my shame rise again as I vividly recalled telling him not to turn the car around.

Every now and then, my stupidity astounds me.

"I'll fix this. Wait here. And don't talk to any strangers. Especially females. You may decide to trade me in. Can't have that." Off I set to fix the problem. Lucky for me, the guard remembered Boo and I clearly from Friday and after a few flattering words (okay, so I begged like my life depended on it) she obtained a ticket for us to by pass the line.

Boo was impressed. The hundreds of people who had been waiting in line for hours before us, were not. "How did you do that?" A silence ensued as the surrounding people held their breath to learn my dark secrets.

"Easy. I showed her my boobs. Works every time."

"Damn. I need a set of knockers. Think of the raises and vacation time I could get if I could just flash my boobs willy-nilly at the boys."

"Oh, Boo. You aren't that far behind. A few more donuts and then I'll teach you to squeeze your boobs together using your arms. With your pretty blue eyes, tight ass and growing breasticles, you'll have all the men after you in no time," I joked.

Just as he was reaching to choke the life out of me, his number was called.

Saved by an underpaid, overworked, government official. Who would have thought?