The worst/best time to have a birthday

birthday cake
Yesterday was such a perfect day. First thing in the morning, my friend Nath delivered a birthday cake that was just like my Grandma King used to make for me when my family happened to be travelling on my birthday (and which I remember eating for breakfast before getting in the car for a long ride home): angel food with strawberry frosting.

The kids and Kevin gave me the whole day off. I went shopping, an annual event, and refreshed my wardrobe for the coming year. (And, no, I'm not exaggerating; it really is an annual event. Lucky me, my birthday falls during prime sales time). Add to the list of happy happenings: yoga, naptime, dinner out, and late-night vegging on the couch watching episodes of Modern Family (why so funny? can't analyze it), and it was such a fine day.

When I came home from shopping, I found these messages on our chalkboard.
chalkboard messages
"Happy birthday Mom! why we love you."
chalkboard messages
"I love everything about you mom, the way you look smell and act." "I love how you'r a good role model to look up too. When I grow up I want to be just like you."
chalkboard messages
"She plays piano." "You are generous." "I love how she does everything." "She makes the best cookies." "She makes the best food." [this message brought to you by the fussiest of all my eaters!] "She gets lego for me." "She cooks for us." "You read bedtime stories." "Because you are organized and kinda bossy." ["Who wrote that one?" "Daddy!"]

When I was a kid, I was pretty sure my birthday fell at the wrong time of the year. Now I'm pretty sure it's exactly right. Just when I'm collapsing into the post-Christmas/pre-New-Year's slump, along comes my birthday to fill me right back up again.
Which is good, because today we return to our regularly scheduled programming.

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