Dear birthday gods,
Why? Why must you try everything in your power to destroy my birthday? You know how much I look forward to this! You know how I plan and anticipate and still, you try to take it from me. Last year, it was the poop. The year before that, it was the abandonment. But this year, you seem to have pulled out all the stops. I thought it was particularly harsh how you gave me a stomach virus on the eve of my birthday week, cleverly disguising it as possible food poisoning so I wouldn't seek an immediately cure. As if giving me my child's chest cold wasn't enough...combining nausea with a bad cough? Not cool. But now my bathroom is a lot cleaner.
Wasn't it enough that I wussed out on getting the one gift that I really wanted? Or the fact that my son ate most of my birthday chocolate? I suppose that last one was my fault, really. After all, I did give him the chocoholic gene.
Even the weather! You know how I love waking up to a cold, drizzly morning and yet you managed to delay that just one day, so I didn't get to enjoy it on the one morning I get to sleep in. Oh, and thanks for sending in all my family members one by one to take that from me. Just can't sleep when there are cute little ones waiting to give me a birthday hug.
And must you plot with the evil network gods to take my husband away from me at this time every year? Seriously? But even that couldn't make my birthday week go away. I still had plans! I still had friends, family, and a ready supply of babysitters! My birthday was celebrated each and every day, even the day I went to the doctor for that pesky virus. He gave me a rather lovely gift in the form of a prescription.
You had one ace up your sleeve, though. And I'd really like to know how you convinced Mother Nature to give me an early monthly gift. That was just wrong.
The one who says it's my birthday and I'll wear pajama pants all week if I want
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