Oh Birthday, My Birthday

Yesterday was my Birthday!*pauses to let the raucous applause die down*

It all started on Friday. With money in my wallet there were two things I needed to do: put gas in to Big Red and buy groceries. I prayed the whole way home because my gas light came on when I pulled into work that morning and it hadn't occurred to me to fill the tank before heading home. Coasting up to the pumps, I breathed a heavy sigh of relief and then wept silently as I watched the digital numbers climb without shame.

I made it to the grocery store and what do I see but a woman standing to the side pleading with this ugly man. Tears streaming down her face, she tells him that she tries not to think about him with "her" and all these other women but now she can't. Now, she's the one suffering. She's the one that gets physically ill. She's the one that isn't getting any sleep. He gives her an icy glare and tells her that she knew how it would be and things won't change.

Their preteen daughter knows enough to not look and the little boy in the cart is now begging his mama for a kiss. She wipes her eyes, sees me staring, and casts her eyes back to the ground. I've seen it before. I lived it when I was the preteen and Nat was the kid in the cart. You could say I stalked them around the store but really I was just keeping one eye on them and my thumb on speed dial.

I raced home with a to-do list as long as Denny's schlong . This is where I should put the story of how I got things done. What really happened is that I sat on my ass, made myself a cup of peppermint cocoa and read a book. It was a really good book too.

Saturday I woke up and gave myself the gift of bangs. Then I did some baby shopping.

To start off right, I got myself a peppermint latter and slice of gingerbread. The fine barista let me know that my coffee would be at the other end. I opened my mouth to speak and she cut me off with, "It'll be at the other end". Closing my wallet, I set my copy of the baby registry down and she asked me if I needed help reading and understanding it.

I'm sure she meant well. Right? That's the approach I took because it's my birthday weekend goddammit and I'm not gonna let some coffee whore mess it all up. At the other end of the counter, my latte appears but not my gingerbread. Barista bitch gets a scowl from coffee-blending girl; I win.

I encountered the slowest cashier in the Midwest who said that she couldn't adjust the registry because she was "new and no one had ever shown her how". When I advised her to read the portion of the registry titled "Cashier Instructions" for help, she informed me that she wasn't sure she had the authority to do this kind of thing.

Me: "Thing like what? Read?"

The baby shower itself was a success. I won prize and acted like I had won a prize. Which to those of you who either a) don't win many prizes or b) don't appreciate a hard-earned win would look like I'd just struck oil by turning on a faucet. I was super excited. In ways that only a photograph could express. Thankfully, there are none.

I breezed out of there and got all dressed for the zoo. Our zoo does a fantastic lights display and the trip was free (for me) and so I gleefully spent 2 hours trekking through the cold, blowing snot sickles, and not seeing any animals. Then Mom and I watched Eclipse. The best part of the movie was when Bella cut her arm in attempt to keep Edward from being destroyed and Mom said, "Jesus! You tell this chick one Indian tale and she thinks she's Sacajawea". I died.

Sunday, I got up and took myself to a posh brunch and got an invitation from mom for dinner. I accepted and was starting to get ready when I got a text from my friend Paige. She was 20 weeks pregnant and had just
 found out last Thursday (12/2) that the little bean inside of her was going to grown into a baby boy. We were all ecstatic for her and loved the way that she announced it: by sending us all a link to her ultrasound that she had posted on Vimeo.

But yesterday, I got this message:
"I don't know how to say this. I'm in the hospital and lost my baby due to a ruptured amniotic sac. I wish I were dead."

I stopped and I cried.
A couple of hours passed and I finally went off to my own birthday celebration. I went to the pub where we met striped-shirt Steve. Apparently, there was some band playing but I promise you they weren't good. Nat and Mr. T surprised me with a chocolate cake that was topped with enough candles to violate all sorts of fire codes and I got to eat my name right out of the center.

Thankfully, I had the foresight to only drink the free shots. Otherwise, right now, I'd be fucked.

P.S. - I know that I owe you four more days of the meme and I promise to get back to it at some point. Maybe. I'm not exactly known for finishing things.

Update: I ended the night with a pizza dog (a hotdog - cut down the center - stuffed with pepperoni and then WRAPPED IN A SLICE OF PIZZA AS A BUN. The epicocity of it all is unreal. And while you think that should have been an easy choice to make, I had to turn down the "Cheezus Crust" aka a grilled cheese sandwich using pizza for bread. Then there's the Baby Cheezus, it's half the size but just as "blasphemalicious". Ha! Good times.