It’s my birthday, birthday, ha-ha-happy birthday… (for those who watch Nick Jnr, that song will be in your head for the next twenty-four hours…you’re welcome).
So yes. Today is my birthday, I turn 32, and as I type this blog post I’m sipping a glass of fizz while I wait for my sweet potato fries to cook. I say fries,they’re more wedges, I couldn’t be bothered to cut them any thinner.
This time last week I wasn’t particularly looking forward to my birthday, perhaps it was the night of double exploding nappies which caused me to be off my game, but the thought of being another year older filled me with dread, however, I’ve had a really lovely day. I didn’t expect much today, not because Mr Aimee is crap (for all his voucher code, moaning because my birthday is so close to Mother’s Day malarky, he always does very well with presents), but because I am shopping with my mum tomorrow, and am off to the big smoke with my friend on Friday. Therefore whatever I buy is my present.He did however say he’d like to get me a token gesture from the boys so I have something to open.
Please note, that Mr Aimee has used the word “budget” about 60 million times since we agreed this is what we’d do gift wise this year.
Last night when I was tucking the boys in, The Chunky Monkey was hysterical becuase he couldn’t show me the card he’d made for me, even after I heard him tell daddy he understood it was for the next day, and The Beast, well The Beast was BURSTING to tell me what he’d got me, but he didn’t, he just told me that he wasn’t going to tell me, and then I left the room before he had chance to forget his promise. I assumed it would be some chocolates or something, so when I opened the bathroom door to this this morning I was happily surprised.
See…I told you I was surprised.
Our tradition is usually to do cake and presents downstairs at breakfast, but we have a visitor on school days and Mr Aimee knows how these private celebrations (with cake), mean more to me then most things, so we did it this way. I know…he’s a keeper right? I was really shocked when The Beast presented me with his present.
And the chunky monkey with his (it’s glasses I’ve been hankering after for ages, I know, it proves I’m getting old to be over the moon about glasses).
Then everyone had cake for breakfast – it’s the law on birthday’s right right? And I threw the kids to school and came home.
Everyone has asked me if I was doing anything special for my birthday this year, and I feel a bit embarrassed, I mean, is it awful that I didn’t want too? Mr Aimee and I went to Pizza Express (my choice) on Saturday night to celebrate, and at 9.30pm, after our meal he said “so where now?” and I said “Home”. We got home, and I promptly pulled on my PJS, had a glass of wine and was asleep before 10.30pm. (please move everything back half an hour, even I was a little bit embarrassed to be asleep before 10pm on a Saturday night).
But going back tot he “anything special” today is no different. Not in a bad way, just in a happily content way. “I’m working” I told people, and then felt the need to wrinkle my nose as if I was disapointed, when really I was thrilled to work, because today I completed the main draft of my new Dottie book – confirming that it totally is coming out in early May. So today, I ate breakfast infront of the latest “Revenge”, I drank juice out of my new glass, I finished my book, and then I got my roots fixed by my clever friend who also does my hair (I told you, my best feature is totally because of my friend). Then I rearranged my glasses cupboard, crashed with my boys, and now I’m going to eat steak and drink red wine.
Reading that back it sounds pretty dull doesn’t it?
But it’s not. Instead it’s just very relaxing, I look through my cards and attempt to not notice the two themes (booze and butterflies). I think my friends and family know me pretty well don’t you?
So, getting older isn’t actually as bad as I thought it would be, in fact, it fills me with a kind of peace. Thanks also for the birthday messages on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram x
P.S. I know things are quiet, blame Dottie.