The Boulevard Cinema

  Today is the last day of March Break.  It has, as always gone too quickly.  It's been busy.  The kid's had friends over, Grace had band camp for a few days, Riley and I headed into Toronto to visit Sick Kid's, a busy week.  Today is the last day.  Today we are going to the movies to see The Lorax.

   Normally if we went to a Cinneplex it would cost us $57.46 for myself and the 4 kids, this does not include the at least $30 .00 at the concession stand.  We have discovered a jewel in the rough.  There is town about 45 minutes from here called Napanee.  In Napanee there is a little movie theatre called 

 "The Boulevard Cinema".  It is not high tech, it is not flashy, or new.  The seats are old school, and a little well loved (that's the nice way of saying ratty).  But the price is sooo right.  The price is $6.00 a person, so I can take my 4 kids to the show for $30.00, and about $15.00 for the concession.  At that price I can afford to take the kids out.  They even have $4.00 Tuesdays which are even better.

   Today we are meeting up with friends.  It is a great way to end the March Break.  We have done this lots of times on PA days and on March break.  We meet up with a large group of friends and their moms. The kids all sit with their friends, and the Mom's sit in the row behind them, and quietly catch up (we whisper .. I swear).  It is the best of all worlds.  Most times we take up one or two rows.  We have a great time, and we don't have to mortgage the house, win win.

How Many Kid's Do You Have?

    How many kids do you have?  This is a question that is really difficult to answer.  Any way I answer it I feel like a liar.  The correct answer is I have 5 kids, and I do.  The question that follows, is how old are they?  This too is really difficult to answer.  I know how old my kids are, but....   The correct answer is My oldest should be 17, in a way he's 9, then 10, then 7, then 7 and 3.
    Most of the time I try to gauge my answer to the question to the questioner.  If I don't know and will never see this person I reply with the truth (well kind of), "I have 5 kids, 17, 10, 7 year old twins and a 3 year year old".  Their reply is "I bet the oldest is a big help".  My reply "Not really", and I give them that "you know how teen age boys are" look.  To people that I will see again, my reply is "4 kids, 10, 7 year old twins and a 3 year old."  Their reply to that inevitably is either "WOW, you have your hands full!" to which I smile and nod, because I really should not respond in the way that my head says to.  The other also charming reply is "WOW, do you guys ever watch TV" to which they chuckle to themselves and think themselves very witty.  To this I also give the smile, because these individuals REALLY don't want to know what I'm thinking.
    Here is the part of the story where I tell why this is a tricky question.  I am proud to say that I have 5 kids.  I love Gabriel, he is a part of our family, even though he is not physically here.  Death makes people uncomfortable.  I do not tell new people about Gabe until I have known them for some time, not because I don't love my son, but because it changes the way that person looks at me.  When I meet new people they see "ME", the funny woman who happens to be very involved in her community and is raising 4 great kids.  When new people find out about Gabe, you can physically see their discomfort.  They view me differently after that.  Their demeanor changes.  It goes from seeing "ME" to seeing a "sad pathetic woman who has lost a child", and how uncomfortable that makes them feel.  The view that they held of me morphs before my eyes.  Why is it that if you loose your parents you are an orphan, if you loose your husband you are a widow, your wife, a widower.  There is no name for parents who have lost children, why is that?
    After Gabe died my community rallied around us.  I had strangers bringing us meals.  Friends and family were here.  It was amazing.  People really wanted to help.  After a few weeks the desire to help changed to discomfort.  I'm not sure if people thought I would walk around sobbing.  People that I know actually would cross the street when they saw me, and put down their heads, so that I would be fooled into thinking that they did not see me.  It was as if they they thought that the death of a child was contagious.  It was then that I learned, death makes people very uncomfortable.
    It was also around this time that I learned that people who had no idea what they were talking about had great advice about grief, and that people say a lot of really stupid things!  I had a person tell me that Gabe's birthday, was not his birthday any longer, because he was dead (this individual should feel very lucky that I chose to keep my words to myself).  I have been introduced to people as "This is Tristan, you know the dead boy's mother".  "Oh, you are so brave.  I could never be as brave as you.  I would just lie in my bed all day".  My response "Then you don't love your children very much, do you".   At the time of Gabe's death I was physically in really bad shape.  We had been in a car accident, and I nearly died myself.  I had an incision that went from my breast bone to my pelvis.  I could not move my right leg.  But more importantly, I had a three year old who had to sit in a freezing cold car in the pitch dark for hours.  She had a broken leg, but more than that, she had a broken spirit.  I also had 5 month old twins.  I was in the hospital for a week, and was released before I should have been so that I could make funeral arrangements for my 9 year old child.  I was further tied up for a week preparing for the funeral and being at the funeral and visitation.  I was not in their lives for two weeks.  How do you look into the eyes of your surviving children and essentially tell them "I loved your brother more than you".  I would have loved to just lay in bed, but I am a mother before I am anything else, and that includes a heart broken woman.  My children needed me, more than they had ever needed me.  I do not pretend that they had a whole mother, most days I just pretended for them, but I was physically there.  I guess that makes me strong, but not in the insincere and condescending way that others told me I was.
    So if you ask how many kids I have, for "you" I will tell the truth, I have 5 kids, and yes, my husband and I DO watch t.v., and no, that is not "a lot of kids", it's just perfect for us.

The Sick Kid's Sleep Clinic

    Today Riley and I had a one on one day.  I am sad to admit that my kids actually look forward to doctor's appointments and trips to the ER.  It is one on one time, something we do not do nearly enough of.  The problem is with 4 kids and day to day life, dedicated one on one is hard to pull off.  Every summer we do give them one on one days, and they really look forward to them.  They get to pick the activity and the parent.
   Today Riley and I headed into Toronto to Sick Kids Hospital.  I am amazed at this beautiful facility.  It would be dreadful to "have to have" a child in there, but if you did, what place.  It is like it's own village, and everything is for kids.   It really is beautiful.
    We were there because Riley may have slept through the night at most 10 times in her 7 years.  My husband and I have been sleep deprived for the last 10 years.  It's something about our girls.  The boys slept through from infancy, but not the girls.  Riley however takes the cake.  She is up an average of two to three times a night, and likes company.  Something had to give.  With much begging and a few tears (by me), Riley was referred to the Sick Kids Sleep Clinic.  The wait list for the clinic is something like a year and a half.
    We have been going for almost two years on and off.  The first visit they suggested changing her sleep routine, we did.  The second visit they prescribed melatonin.  The first three days on the melatonin were bliss.  She slept through the night.  It was like Christmas only without the going into massive debt part.  I began to celebrate.  The celebration was a bit premature.  On the third night she developed debilitating stomach cramps.  They were so bad that we took her to the ER fearing she had a ruptured appendix.  After a week of debilitating stomach cramps we took her off the melatonin.  Within days of coming off the melatonin, she had pain free, and sleep free.
    Today the doctor suggested that we try the melatonin again.  If that didn't work, then we would try a sleeping medication.  I do not want my child to require sleeping medications at 7.  I also do not want her to never sleep through the night.  Tomorrow night we will try the melatonin again, and pray for the best.  It is a really tough decision.
    On a positive note, we had a wonderful day in Toronto.  Sick Kids was exciting and fun for Riley.  It's a wonderful place. She loved riding in the glass elevators.  Then we rode the subway.  She loved the subway.  She was amazed that we were traveling under the city.  We went to the Eaton's Centre.  Then we went to Yorkdale.  At Yorkdale we ate dinner at the Rainforest Cafe.  This is not a venture for the poor.  I should say that Riley had dinner at the Rainforest Cafe, and I had a coke and a small salad.  It was worth every penny to see her face.  If there is a draw back to our large family, it's that we are not able to afford the luxuries.  I guess that is why one on one is so special, and why you have to make the most of every one on one, even if it's to a doctor's appointment or to the hospital.

Beautiful bustling Toronto, what a treat to be here visiting.

The giant Mickey in the Sick Kid's food court.

The glass elevators.  Riley told me how proud she was of me for riding on
it and looking out the window ( I don't like heights).

Not your average examination room.  At Sick Kids they think of everything.
  Riley sat and drew pictures while we waited.

Riley on the subway.  "Hey mom, are you taking this picture for your blog?"  I sheepishly replied "yes".

My "Max" Mug, Remembering Nana

    I took my "Max" (Maxwell House) mug out of the dishwasher today and wanted to cry.  The once cherry red shiny lettering is beginning to fade.  I'm not sure if I can take it if the lettering comes off.  I need to remember to hand wash it.  This silly mug has been mine since grade 13, that was a long, long time ago.  The Max mug is not just a mug, it represents my Nana's love for me.
    Neither of my grandmother's were the baking cookie type.  Both of them were very far from the stereotypical grandmother.  My Mom is the stereotypical grandmother.  She bakes cookies with them.  She and my Dad spoil them rotten.  Really to fit the bill, my mom just needs to be a bit rounder and wear a bib apron, and she is the advertisement for "Grandmother".  That was not my Grandma or my Nana.  My Nana was one of the strongest woman I know.  She did not have a lot financially, but she more than made up for that in personality, and spunk.
    Nana was my soft spot to fall.  I was pretty certain that I was her favourite grandchild, I never shared this with my sister or cousins, but I was pretty sure I was.   I mentioned that my Nana was one of the strongest women that I know, she was also one of the most interesting.  She saw two world wars, the last of which she was a young mother living in Scotland.  Nana would tell tales of waking up and neighbourhood houses would have been reduced to ruble when they woke.  They would hear the sirens at all hours and listened for the whistle of the bombs.  She sent her children off to school, and did not know if she would see them again.  I would sit and listen to her every word, every pause, every breath.  She would tell us stories of our family history (I'm now not sure how much truth there was to them).  We heard stories of Robert The Bruce, Bonny Prince Charley, and The Isle of Skye.  We were descendants of Robert the Bruce (I was really upset when I watched Brave Heart), Nana told us.  A Bruce never killed a spider, it was because of a spider that he went on to defeat the English.  She never spoke about her trip to Canada.  I think about how brave she was, traveling to a new country with four small children, all by herself (My Papa and my Aunt Jean had come over six months earlier.)  She left her sisters and brothers, and mother and father behind, knowing that she may never see them again.  She plunged herself into the great unknown.  I wonder now if she never spoke of it, because it was too hard to think about.
    Nana was a double amputee, and yet she danced at everyone of her grandchildren's weddings.  She never complained about having no legs, at least not that I ever heard.  She always held herself so straight and with such dignity.  She was my role model.  She did not have a lot of money, but she always managed to give me a little money when I went on school trips.  "Here Pet", and she would hand me a jam jar full of change.  I was "Pet" when she was especially loving.  "Pet",one of the best words in the English language.
    Nana was never without a cup of black instant coffee and a cigarette.  When my Riley was born I said to my Mom, "oh she looks like Nana, she just needs a cigarette and a pair of knitting needles".  It was always Maxwell House instant coffee.  When I was in grade 13 there was a promotion run by Maxwell House Coffee.  If you collected something like a million coffee labels they would send you a "Max" coffee mug.  I needed that mug.  It would be the crowning jewel to my collection of items that I needed for university. Every time I saw Nana I would ask how many labels we had.  "We're almost there Pet".  Finally after what felt like years we had enough.  I sent the labels off and then not so patiently waited.  When my mug finally came, you would have thought it was made of gold.  I was so excited.
    I went off to university with my mug, a treasured possession.  Whenever I drank out of that mug, it felt like a little hug from Nana.   My Nana was 83 when she died.  I was a newly wed.  I thought that the bottom had dropped out of my world.  I was inconsolable.  My mug took on even more meaning.  Still to this day when I pull my "Max" mug out of the cupboard I smile.  It seems insane to feel an emotional connection with a mug, feel free to call me insane, because I do.  That mug reminds me of my Nana's love.  It reminds me of what a powerful force she was in shaping me.  It makes me thankful for the strong stock I come from.

Homemade Liquid Sidewalk Chalk

 Today is the first day of March Break, which means I will hear at least one million "I'm BORED"'s and  at least one million "____________(insert child's name here)'s bugging me".  This means that I have to get creative to save my own sanity.  Needless to say, I will be scouring my new best friend "Pinterst" for ideas.
    I only have to come up with three days of activities (we're away Wednesday).  We will be inviting friends over tomorrow,  Wednesday we're away, that leaves Thursday, and Friday, and the rest of today.
I'll let you know what I come up with to fill their days.
    Today the weather is glorious, so I sent them outside.  As I sit here and write this I am smiling listening to them play ( I have the front door open).  I know it will not last.  I know that someone will irritate someone, and there will be angry words, but for now I will enjoy their happy noise.  They are complimenting each other on their art.  They are co-operating, does life get much better than this?
    I found a recipe for liquid chalk on Pinterest.  The website is thirtyhandmadedays.com.  The recipe is very straightforward.

1 tsp washable tempura paint
1 cup hot water
1/2 cup corns starch
1 squirt dishwashing liquid
1 squirt bottle.

Sounds easy.  I don't have any tempura paint, but I have food colouring.  I don't have any squirt bottles, but I could repurpose some.  Off I went to search the house for spray bottles.  Bottles found, and thoroughly washed.  I mixed together the hot water into the cornstarch and added the dish soap, then whisked it.  It made a quicksand substance that glumped the whisk to the bottom of the bowl.  I was patient, and mixed it.  I then poured the mixture into bottles with the food colouring gel in it.  Shake shake shake, ready to go.  Found the kid's spring jackets, and rubber boots, and off we went to experiment.  They had a blast, although Riley was a little frustrated.  Turns out her de-tangling spray bottle was not a great match for the liquid.  In it's place, a bowl and a paint brush.  Then the other two wanted bowls and brushes (Grace is away today).  They loved it.  Is it the greatest product that I have ever encountered, no.  Did it give my kids some creative fun, yes.  The mixture did not turn out "awesome", but I did my usual.  The recipe called for tempura paint, I had food colouring.  It called for squirt bottles, I found some old bottles around the house.  All in all it is worth a try.

    Now I just need to find something else for this afternoon, and three more days, hmmmmmmmm...

To Separate Or Not To Separate, That Is The Question...

    Why is it automatically assumed that you will / want to separate school aged twins?  I believe that it is thought that by not separating them you will cause them psychological damage.  What if people compare them?  What about their individuality?  Blah, Blah, Blah.  It is obvious to me that the creators of these "absolutes", were not twins, nor did they have twins.
     The topic of separating Riley and Rowan has come up a few times.  When I first enrolled them for junior kindergarden I was asked if I wanted them together or separated.  I was told that they like to separate them in grade three.  At that point I wanted them together because it would allow them a better school experience if I kept them together.  All of my children are painfully shy.  When they were little Rowan had terrible separation anxiety.  Keeping them together allowed them to be placed with their "best friend".  On their first day of school I left them, and looked back through tear filled eyes.  When I looked back, they were sitting together holding hands.  They gave each other comfort.  Comfort made them love school.
    As time has progressed their shyness has subsided a bit.  They are now very comfortable going to school.  They don't "need" to be together, but it's easier for me.  We have a small school.  There are generally two teachers for each grade.  Over the coarse of having older children I have gotten to know all of the teachers.  I know what teacher works best with my children.  When I can, I request a teacher for my children.  My kids learn their best when they feel secure and cared for.  They do not do well in chaos, nor do they do well with teachers that use harsh words, or overly yell.  Some kids need teachers like that, mine don't function well in that atmosphere.  Why would I separate them just for the sake of separating them?
    Why do they like to separate them in grade three?  I come back to why would you arbitrarily separate them?  I could understand separating if they were too reliant on each other.  I could understand separating them if they were too disruptive together.  Riley and Rowan don't look like siblings, Riley looks like a little cloned me, and Rowan looks like a little cloned Christopher with red hair.  They act as completely separate individuals.  They don't even talk to each other in class.  They have different friends.  They are complete individuals.  They are absolutely nothing alike in their personalities.  Their gym teacher was new to our school this year, and did not even know that they were twins.  She saw that they had the same last name and assumed that they were cousins.
    Last week I had a meeting at the school with our principal and vice-principal.  We were discussing what will happen next year, grade three.  It was a foregone conclusion that we would separate them.  They were both taken a little aback when I told them I wanted them together.  I explained to them that I like to request teachers that my children will thrive under, and keeping them together makes my life that much easier, and with four kids, life needs to be made as easy as possible.  I could see the understanding beginning to form on their faces.
    I come back to my question, why would you arbitrarily separate twins?  Should you not look at the individuals and then decide?  Let me know what you think.

Our Bathroom Renovation

   Ten years ago we walked into this house with our real-estate agent.  We walked in through the front door into the living room.  We were greeted by cica 1970's barf green shag carpet.  As soon as I saw the house I knew it was ours (in spite of the shag, not because of it).  It just had that feeling, it felt like home to me.  The only room in the house that did not need help was the living room.  Every space in this house needed a massive dose of TLC.  The worst room in the house by far was the upstairs bathroom.  As soon as I saw it, I told Christopher, "Oh that will be changed".
   The first thing to be done, was pull up the shag carpet.  It revealed a treasure, hardwood floors!  Christopher refinished the floor, making it beautiful.  Next Gabe and Grace's rooms (there were only two kids when we moved in).  Gabe's room we painted electric blue and bright red, with Harry Potter everywhere.  Grace's room was peachy pink and moss green with a beautiful fairy border ( Elly has since inherited it).  That was all we could afford at first.  A few years later we retiled the downstairs bathroom (it's the size of a closet), repainted, new pedestal sink, new cupboard over the toilet, new mirror.  Then we painted the living room. Sprucing this poor house up has been a ten year process.
    Flash forward nine years to this time last year.  We had decided to renovate the upstairs bathroom.  It was not a purely cosmetic decision.  We were very worried about mould ( and as it turns out, rightfully so).  This poor old house of ours had been severely neglected in the years before we purchased it.  I really wish that I had taken before pictures of that bathroom.  It was an eye sore.  They had built the counter, and surfaced it with some sort of awful laminate, to be honest, I think it was linoleum flooring.  The tub surround was two different colours that had been pieced together (white and beige).
    For months we picked up pieces for the bathroom and stored them in the basement.  I would not settle, everything had to be just right.  We hired a flooring company to replace the floor with beautiful black and white laminate flooring.  When they pulled up the old flooring they discovered that it was rotten and full of mould , so a new sub-floor was in order.  We also had a bath fitting company come in and replace the tub surround.  It is now gorgeous, and all one colour, white.  Every single decision was thought through.  Some of the decisions were very, very funny.  Where we live is fairly close to the New York border, so we do cross border shopping.  I had searched online for the perfect toilet here in Canada, but could not find what I wanted.  I found a Jacuzzi brand one at the Home Depot in Watertown, New York.  So I packed up my son Rowan and headed over the border.  Our choice was water efficient, and gorgeous, and considerably less than I would have paid for something similar in Canada.  I was extremely proud of my purchase.  Coming home across the border when asked "reason for your visit?", the poor crossing guard could barely contain her smile when I told her " I wanted to buy a toilet."  "But we sell toilets at home" she replied.
"Not Jacuzzi ones that look this pretty.", " Go on through" she said, not bothering to cover her laughter.
    Last March break I packed up the kids and headed for the great white north to visit my sister and her family in Saute Saint Marie for the week.  This left my husband with a lot of time on his hands.  He decided to finish the bathroom while we were gone.  When we drove in from our trip at 1:30 a.m., my husband was covered in white paint and had a frazzled air about him (not to mention his mad scientist hair).  What I saw when I went up stairs, made my jaw drop.  It was the most beautiful bathroom I had ever seen.  Honestly it looked like it could have been in a magazine (you will notice from my pictures that it no longer looks like that ).  You will also notice from the pictures, that I have not yet found a satisfactory window covering.  I put a white sheet up to cover the window when the shower is in use, really unattractive, but it stops the neighbours from poking out their own eyes.

My beautiful Jacuzzi toilet.

I fell in love with this mirror in the Home Depot in Watertown, NY.  

We had huge debate over the sink and counter.  I had wanted a full one that went the whole wall, Christopher thought it would be too much for our small bathroom.  In the end I conceded (someone should write that one down).  Turns out he was right (don't tell him I said that, it will go to his head).  I found these great shelves at Bed Bath and Beyond.  I also found black wicker baskets.  Each person has their own basket for their toiletries, so far it is really working out well.

I hung pictures of our last year's family vacation to Cape Cod on the wall across from the tub,

 as you enter the bathroom.  Every time I walk past them I smile,

 and remember what an amazing holiday that was.  

    I am delighted with the way the bathroom came together.  I was afraid that it would not look as good in reality as it did in my head, but it did.  Now I just need to convince Christopher to redo our bedroom.

Dinner for 6 for $6.00 or under - Tuna Cakes Yum !

    This is a tried and true family favourite.  If I were a betting woman, I would say that this kid pleasing recipe has been in my family for at least three generations!  So tasty, inexpensive and quick.  As a little girl I would get very excited when I found out that we were having Tuna Cakes.  My whole family gets excited when I tell them that tuna cakes are what we are having for dinner.  This recipe makes enough for a family of 6 to gorge themselves, and have left overs.

Tuna Cakes Yum

You will need...

1 pot of mashed potatoes ( left overs work perfectly well.  I use about 2 and a half pounds of potatoes)
chives or finely chopped green onion
salt and pepper
butter ( you can adjust this to suite yourself, I LOVE butter)
2 cans of tuna, rinsed and drained

Make your mashed potatoes.  I like to use the potato masher and then add my butter, salt, and milk.  I use my mix master to whip them.  Then add your chives/ onion pepper, and drained tuna, stir in.
Melt some butter in the pan.  As you can tell by my picture below, I have a very old dilapidated frying pan.  That old girl has stood the test of time, just like this recipe.  It is missing a leg and a handle, I just use an oven mitt to balance it (how's that for safety first).

    After the butter is all nice and melted, I use my scoop and scoop my potato/ tuna mix into the pan.

    I then press them down lightly with a fork.  You want to let them get a nice brown ( the crusty part is the very best part.  We all fight over the crusty bits).

    It takes about 5 minutes to crisp them to a golden brown.  It makes them crusty on the outside, and soft and mushy on the inside.  These are a real kid pleaser.  I teamed it up with broccoli for dinner because at our house, broccoli is the only vegetable that the kids can all agree on.

If you are asking yourself how I came about $6.00 for this dinner, here is the breakdown...

half of a bag of potatoes $1.50

two cans of tuna $1.00 each

1/4 of a pound of butter $3.00 a pound on sale - so $ 0.75

milk

2 heads of broccoli $2.00 ($1.00 each on sale)

So now I have shared a family recipe, that is quick, easy and soooooooo good.

My Cinderella Moment ... and not the awesome one!

I had already started cleaning when I took this picture.

   You know that part in Cinderella where she has just had the most wonderful night of her life, and is sighing deeply looking into the eyes of Prince Charming.  For her the world cannot get any better.  Then she hears that stupid clock chime midnight and she knows she has to haul it.  She takes off at break neck speed.  She is hauling it so fast that she does not even know that she lost a shoe!  There is a point when she looks down at her bare feet standing in stinking pumpkins guts, mice are running everywhere and she wonders if it was really worth it.
    I had a not so dissimilar moment this morning as I ventured into my kitchen.  Last night until 9:30 p.m. ( apparently my Fairy Godmother has a curfew) I was the good Cinderella, the one where she's a princess.  Yesterday was so wonderful.  Coffee and danish to greet me.  Dinner was lovingly prepared by my husband.  My parents came, we laughed until I was cried.  I was showered with gifts.  "Don't touch anything, it's your birthday" my husband firmly insisted as I got up to clean up.  My parents came, we all laughed until I cried.  Life was good.  After Mom and Dad left and the kids were tucked in bed, it was our time.  I should say my time, because Christopher fell asleep on the couch at 9:30 p.m.  I sat and watched mindless t.v., then shuffled off to bed.  At no point did I look into the kitchen.
    When I got up this morning and walked into the kitchen, or should I say municipal dump, my jaw dropped.  There was no a single uncovered area.  The dishes were piled a foot everywhere.  The left overs were still on the stove.  It looked like a dirty bomb went off, literally.  Let me take a moment here to qualify that I am by no means a good housekeeper.  I would rather do pretty much anything else but to clean.  I like to sew, to craft, to cook, to cut my own arm off, o.k. maybe the arm being cut off is a little over dramatic, but I am no Martha Stewart.  Anyone who has been to my house will be all too happy to testify to this fact.  However, having said that, it does not usually look like you could expect a rat to scuttle out at any time.
    So I began cleaning dishes, making piles, swearing under my breath.  I now wonder if it was worth it.  I mean I got pretty spoiled rotten yesterday, but.......... I'll let you know after I clean the pumpkin guts off my bare feet.

Happy Birthday To ME!

    This is what I saw when I walked into my living room this morning.  I think my sweetheart of a husband must have stayed up until 2:00 a.m. doing this.  I did a little stumble back when I saw it.  When you see something like this, you can't help but to feel loved.  It reminds me just how very blessed I am.  I always know that I am blessed, but sometimes I forget "just" how very blessed I am.

Rowan had left is DS open on my chair, and this is what it said.

    As you may have guessed, birthdays are a big deal at our house.  Who am I kidding, everything is a big deal at our house.  When someone has a birthday, it becomes like a holiday.  It is nice to be on the receiving end of it.
    Here's the thing about my birthday, I forgot that it was my birthday.  As a kid I had it counted down to the minutes.  When anyone asked my age, I would tell them in months and sometimes even into the minutes.  Now, it's not really a big deal.  I do not dread it, it doesn't matter because I'm going to gain that year whether I like it or not.  Like so many things in my life, it simply is.  The kids were amazed yesterday when they were talking about my birthday and I told them that I had forgotten it.  "How could you forget your own birthday?"  They asked with disgust.  I would never forget anyone else's birthday because it involves work for me, I have to keep things organized.  I have been so busy this week with other commitments that it just slipped my mind, precisely because I did not have to anything to prepare for my own birthday, I just had to wake up.
    So to sum this all up, I have not received any physical gifts yet today, but the best and biggest gift was the gift of love ( I know I sound sappy and your are holding back a mouth barf right now).  I make it my job to make sure that everyone in my family is well cared for.  I do extra little things for them to remind them of my love.  I am not going to be humble on this one, I work really hard at being a mom (and a I work a bit at being a good wife).  I really put my back into it, so to speak.  When I wake up and have a big fuss made over me, it tells me that they notice my sacrifice.  I hope that you are all good and jealous!