Tuesday, October 19, 2010

You say it's your birthday

It's my birthday too--yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.
- The Beatles

I don't know about you, but I tend to view my birthday as my own, personal New Year's day. As such, there are protocols to be followed. First, on New Year's Eve, I need to have a nice relaxing bath and put clean sheets on the bed - even if I changed them that morning - I must begin my new year in clean sheets. Second, the house must be clean; sparkly, even. Thirdly, I must have eggs, bacon, good bread and stewed tomatoes in the house; got to start the year out with a good breakfast.

I am also the mother of two small kids with no storage space, no dish washer and no time, so these protocols haven't been followed in recent years. This year, I decided that it was more important that Beege have clean underwear to wear to school than I have clean hair to drop her off; bye bye, nice, relaxing bath. By the time I remembered about changing the sheets, I was already laying between them with my eyes closed, so there goes that. My house is not sparkly. And I think I had coffee and a stray corn pillow* (*cough* possiblyoffthefloor *cough*) for breakfast.

The day started out well enough, sweet little voices waking me up by yelling "Happy birthday, Mummy!" But soon enough, it became apparent that someone had replaced my children with ... I'm still not sure what. We ate breakfast. I sat down to play blocks with Beege while Keebee finished up at the table. I was hit in the head with a bowl that came flying across the room, accompanied by the war cry "I WANT MORE APPUH DUICE!"

It kind of went downhill from that point. There followed a lot of arguments, breaking up of wrestling matches, pleading, confiscating; until I sat on the floor, crying out of sheer frustration and protecting my head from my very irate two year old, who for some reason felt the need to pummel me while shouting "STOP BEING SAD!"

Based on this year's experience (so far - it's only 2:00pm) I have come up with a new list of rules specifically for Mummy's birthday. They are as follows:

1. Mummy gets the day off. The end. I don't care how you arrange it, Mummy gets the freaking day off.

*Keebee calls these things "corn pillows."


  1. AWWW!!! Sad!! I hope you get a birthday redo this weekend!!!

    Happy (belated) birthday, though!

  2. Heh.. thanks, Rachel :)

    It didn't turn out SO badly - my family showed up and there was jewellery and two different kinds of cake.

    No redo this weekend, we have to deal with getting all the stuff out of our ex-van, apparently it's a total write-off.

    I am, however, planning a half-birthday weekend extravaganza. :)