When people found out that I was due with The Baby (aka #2, not to be confused with #3) on the exact same day as The Boy, I was berated. Which is my personal favorite. Like I really care what you think about my family planning (or unplanning). But if it makes you feel better to tell me, I’m here to serve. And listen. As well as I listen to anyone, that is. Which isn’t that well at all. Ask my husband. He’ll be happy to talk to someone who is actually listening to him.
“They’ll have to share their special day.”
“You’ll probably even make them share a cake.”
Hi, I’ll probably make them share a room, do the same sport in school so I’m not going to two different places, and make them share a car. The only out they probably will have is college, but that is only because one of the children is showing a disturbing tendency to do WHATEVER THE HELL HE WANTS WHEN HE WANTS which will most likely not be conducive to going to a distinguished university. But, hey. I’m a product of community college and look how good I talk. And how fun I am. Snotty education (you know of what I speak, Shane) is well-represented in this family and frankly, parties would be a little boring without me around here.
They are boys. I know this because right now one is behind me, standing on the counter, pouring water from cup to cup to dirty cup on the counter and, evidenced by the splashing sound, his aim sucks. I’m sure girls do these really messy things. I just don’t remember doing them anywhere other than within the containment of a large bath tub as a child, where messes really should be contained. But do they really care about having to share their birthday week? I would have to think they were wussy if they did.
So now birthday week is upon us. I know this because when I got home from the wine festival on Sunday, my children presented me with an ice cream cake. “Happy Birthday, MOM!!!”
Hold your congratulations. It wasn’t even remotely my birthday. I looked at my husband and he just shrugged his shoulders. See, we have started the birthday confusion here and now I am paying for having two children born 4 days apart. And I would like to thank my husband for feeding into the confusion. He mentioned something about having more time on the weekends to celebrate. Except I didn’t get home until 7, so I’m not sure that counts as more time. Remember last year when I went to the Bizarre Bizarre and I came home at 9 to find my in-laws and my family had celebrated The Husband’s birthday without me? Complete with streamers and cake. I’m thinking they might just start celebrating all holidays on weekends when I am working. But back to the birthday confusion.
You see, today is Nate’s School Cupcake Birthday. Not to be confused with his REAL BIRTHDAY TOMORROW. Then Thursday is The Boy’s School Cupcake Birthday. Not to be confused with his REAL BIRTHDAY on Sunday and his REAL BIRTHDAY PARTY on Sunday which is also Nate’s REAL BIRTHDAY PARTY.
It only seems fair that we start the week out with an ice cream cake and end it 8 days later with TWO cakes made by the Cake Lady’s able little hands.
I have to go and frost the cupcakes. And damn preschool for having 1 child beyond a box of cupcakes for two classes. Seriously. Wouldn’t it have been awesome if I had just had to make one batch? Lazy, lazy mother. Wait until #3 has to celebrate his birthday 1 month early with his brothers. I just might do it…