That’s right. Today is my birthday. Because I am the meanest mom in the world, we started with a forced 5K/family fun run. Yup. I said “fun run” and don’t let my kids tell you otherwise. They just don’t understand grown-up fun is all.


I’m not sure what the rest of the day will bring, as darling hubby is at work until time unknown. Let me say this about my husband; he really and truly wants me to be happy. He defends me from the children when the “Moooooooommms” become overwhelming. After 15 years of marriage, he still looks at me periodically with a goofy grin on his face and tells me that I’m “…just so cute.” Clearly, a paragon of manhood is he. HOWEVER

…. when it comes to birthday planning, the man is hopeless. Every year he badgers me with questions, “What do you want to do?” “What do you want to eat?” “When do you want to celebrate?” and then, phfffft…. no follow through at all and the same questions begin again. He tries, bless his heart, but can’t quite manage. His conundrum would be more easily understood if I was hard to please in this arena, but after all these years, my answer has never changed; what I want, more than anything, to do on my birthday is TO NOT HAVE TO PLAN MY BIRTHDAY!!! I honestly do not care what we do. We could have a party, we could stay at home and watch movies with the kids, we could jump out of an airplane, it wouldn’t matter to me as long as I am not involved in the decision making process. Because, if I am? Totally just another day in mom-land. And for the record, deciding to have a party, planning the menu, writing down all the names of the people we’re friends with, opening up the email account and highlighting their addresses and then helping compose the invitation? That is being involved. Some years I just plain refuse to do it, which is when we end up looking at each other at 4:30 in the afternoon going, “Should we go out?” “I dunno.” “Do you WANT to go out?” “I guess.” “Where do you want to go?” etc., which I strongly suspect is the direction this afternoon is going to take.

Sometimes the questions are just plain silly. Last night he looked at me and asked me if I wanted a cake. He was all confused because a dear friend had made me an early birthday cake (Rocky road. Deeelicious.) which to him suggested that the birthday cake portion of the year’s activities was over. That’s not what I got from that question at all. What I heard was;
  1. it was less than 8 hours to my birthday and there was. no. cake.
  2. the man doesn’t know me at all.

He just can’t fathom what he is up against. I am from the midwest, for gosh sakes! Even those of us first-born types, who secretly believe that we should be showered with rose petals upon awakening each birthday morn, are pained, PAINED when people “make a fuss.” It is paramount to us that we avoid seeming “braggy” by calling attention to the anniversary of our births. So I leave it up to him. Sigh.


Next year I might break down and plan something. Don’t be surprised if you get a message on your machine that sounds like this;
“(BEEP!) Hi…um, it’s Lanie. It’s my birthday on Saturday, so, um, I’m having a party, I guess….I’m making lasagna and please don’t feel like you have to bring a present. Seriously. But if you do, I like purses, shoes and all things shiny. Oh. And bring liquor. I’m gonna’ need it. You know what? Forget it. I’m going to the liquor store right now. See you Saturday, I hope…. Please don’t judge me.”

It just occurred to me that I could be entirely wrong. Maybe hubby has made plans and I’m going to sound like a first-class knucklehead when he reveals them. Maybe, just in case, I shouldn’t post this blog at all….

…HAHAHAHAHAHA. I mean, maybe. Could happen.

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The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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