Yesterday was my birthday.
I had dreams of putting my hands in the soil, reading lazily in bed, and scouring garden centers. I was to have a grandiose supper of colorful vegetables sautéed in some type of garlic butter, with a flaky fish on top. I thought I’d go on a walk, or sit outside and watch the children play. Wonderful things, marvelous things. All things that didn’t happen.
Instead, we spent the day at the softball park, filled with whining, complaining, and too many trips to the public restroom.
|Not The Day of my birthday, but close enough where it should count. Incidentally, we were at the same location both days, the softball park.|
I thought I was going to tell you how horrible it was. That it was the worst birthday ever. But I can’t. In fact, in my humble opinion, it may have been one of my best birthdays yet.
My 6 year old softball player hit a triple and a double, and said it was all for my birthday. That was a pretty great present.
Later, at outdoor basketball practice, my 9 year old, actually exerted some effort, and did not complain about how hot it was. She smiled and laughed at least 10 times. That was a pretty great present.
My three year old, did not forget my birthday for one minute, and told me so, every other minute. She kissed me juicily on the lips at least 50 times, and offered up every snack she acquired as a birthday present. A little slimy, but still, all very great presents.
My 10 month old baby, did not take a nap the entire day. Yet, she did not complain, and showered me with kisses, hugs, and soliloquies of dada and nigh nigh. Great presents, but maybe next time we can fit in a Mama, eh Phoeb’s?
For dinner we met the softball team at the local Pizza Parlor, where I was serenaded by the most beautiful 6 year old voices, to a rousing rendition of Happy Birthday To You. I ate my very favorite pizza of Canadian bacon and pineapple, with hot wings on the side. My husband even purchased me a piece of triple chocolate cheesecake with chocolate curls on top, for $5.95. I thought he was going to have a heart attack.
When we got home, all the children got ready for bed, and I didn’t have to help. Then, the six of us overloaded on cake and Blue Bell Happy Tracks Ice Cream, before going to bed.
When the day was finally over, I pulled out my laptop to surf and go through emails. I found tons of messages from my friends wishing me a happy birthday. It made me smile. I scrolled all the way down to see who the first well wisher was, and it was my husband, sent at 6:03 am.
The message read “Happy Birthday Honey.”
It was simple, and tender, and completely perfect. 3 little words. A small act that meant more than anything he could have ever bought. I was so touched that he took the time out of our hectic morning to send me that message when he had already told me two or three times in person. When I asked him why, he said “I wanted to be the first one to wish you a Happy Birthday.” It made me cry.
He’s the blessing that I never thought I’d get. And to the Lord I humbly bow my head. Warwick, forever yours, here I stand.