I woke up to my phone ringing. I took it out to the couch, so I wouldn't disturb my still-sleeping husband. It was my parents on the phone singing a medley of birthday songs they've perfected over years of singing it to their children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. I thanked them and looked up and up and up to see my very tall husband standing over me. As soon as the call was disconnected, he towed me back to my room where I pretended to be asleep.
After a few moments of tired sighs from the other room and crinkling paper, my husband and kids came into my bedroom and birthday-song sang me awake. They gave me my presents, which I opened right then. I love this tradition because you know even before you get out of bed that your birthday hasn't been forgotten. You're not left in suspense all day.
My husband, bless him, gave me exactly what I'd been hinting at for the last month. But it was my daughter that really took the cake. She handed me a satchel she'd crocheted, stuffed with good smelling sprays and lotions.
I finally got out of bed and went jogging. When I came home, my daughter had made me breakfast: oatmeal with blueberries and walnuts, and eggs with herbs. (She's all about herbs.) As she was fussing over it, making it look beautiful, she said, "I don't mean to brag or anything, but I bought your present with my own money."
Isn't that just the sweetest thing you've ever heard?
I'm still dewey-eyed over it.
The rest of the day went as it started: fantastic. (Yay for birthday naps!) I even got a date with my husband where we out-ate every other couple our server had that night. I know because he told us.
The only thing that really bugs me, is that I'll be a year older than my husband for a few months until he catches up with me.