NYC Birthday

Last weekend, we went to NYC for hubby's 40th birthday. It was a quick, overnight trip. We left Saturday and returned Sunday. We went to see the Chris Rock play, The Motherf*cker with the Hat. It was surprisingly good. Neither one of us had ever been to a play, especially a Broadway play, before. Because of the short trip, we stayed in Times Square. After the play, we walked around and soaked in NYC and  Times Square. We ended up at a sports bar named Tonic. That place was so much fun. We ended staying, having drinks, listening to music and laughing at the drunk girl who was dancing her butt off! I definitely want to go back to NYC for an extended stay.

Happy Birthday to ME!

Today is my birthday. Woo hoo (sarcasm). Another year older *sigh*. I guess eventually I'm going to have to stop fighting this getting older thing as much as I don't like it. I still look great; well at least my skin does. It's the one thing I take care of religiously. Now I just need to take care of my body and I'll be good to go.

My goal going forward is to celebrate each and every birthday instead of bitching about getting older. Yeah okay. I'm such a drama queen about my birthday and I need to stop it. I am blessed to be healthy and alive to see another birthday. It is a cause for celebration. Am I right or am I right? Anyway so here's to a new attitude about birthdays.

I'm going to say it loud and say it proud *clears throat*

HAPPY 38TH BIRTHDAY TO MEEEEEEE!!!!!

I just have one wish. Can I have him for my birthday. Pretty please with icing on top?

Happy Birthday D!

I can't believe my baby is 12! I know I always say this but I'm going to say it again - Time flies! He's becoming a little man. He's starting Middle School in September. Soon he'll be going through the dreaded puberty and start thinking about girls! I just hope that as he gets older, he'll still want hugs and kisses from his mom. 

THEN

NOW

It's my Birthday!

Happy Birthday to Me!

Birthday celebration

The birthday girl

Today we celebrated my niece - Julianna - 8th birthday. Her birthday was actually on the 3rd but with grandparents out of town that weekend, we had her birthday celebration a week late. The kids partied in their usual style -burgers and hotdogs, beating the crap of a Spongebob pinata, topped off with cupcakes and ice cream.  It was the perfect Sunday.

Mmmm....cupcakes with purple icing. Yummy.

 

My crazy brother with Spongebob.

Happy Birthday Darrius

On this day, 11 years ago, I gave birth to a wonderful, baby boy after enduring 32 hours of excruciating labor. :-)

Isn't that how all moms start their stories about the birth of their kid(s)?

When I discovered I was pregnant, I was in shock. I wasn't ready for a baby. I worked at Gold's Gym not making good money and I still lived at home with my parents. Alfred was still living at home with his parents and he had a semi-decent job. We had just gotten engaged while on vacation in the Bahamas. We hadn't even started planning the wedding! And I hated kids. I wasn't sure if I wanted to have any of my own. So imagine my surprise when out of the blue, the rabbit decides to kick the bucket. Once the shock and disbelief wore off (it took 2 positive EPT tests for me to begin to believe it), my decision was made. I was going to have a baby. No hesitation. No doubts. I just knew. I couldn't believe how right it seemed. I had taken the pregnancy test at a friend's apartment so once it was confirmed that Yes, I was pregnant, we called Alfred and told him to come over. He wanted to know what I was doing there and I told him I was hanging out. Little did he know. About 20 nerve-wracking minutes later he finally arrives. I didn't say anything. I just handed him the stick and walked out of the room. The next words I hear are "Oh sh!t". Yeah, that pretty much summed it up for me too.

Nine months (or more) later, with half of that time spent with me doubled over and vomiting into every container in sight, I go into labor. I remember that morning clearly. It was a Tuesday morning. I woke up at 6am because I had to pee. While sitting on the toilet, I felt something more than urine go into the toilet. I look down and think, "Uh oh". It was my mucus plug. I finish up and flush the toilet and go back to bed. I wasn't having contractions and I was still tired so I figured I'd get some more rest. I knew that in a little while a little person was coming into this world and I wouldn't have uninterrupted sleep for a very long time. So I might as well get as much rest as I can. Around 9am my mom calls. She got into the habit of checking in on me daily, several times a day. I could set my watch to her phone calls. I answer the phone and she asks how I'm doing. I tell her my mucus plug has come out and my labor has started. I'm saying this in a casual voice, like I'm talking about what I'm eating for breakfast. She gets hysterical/excited and asks if I had called my doctor. I told her no. What's the point? I'm barely having contractions. She yells at me (in her mom way) and tells me I need to call my Gyno right away. I give in cause I don't want my mom to come through the phone and slap the black off of me for not doing what she told me to do. I call my gyno and get a 1pm appointment. I call my mom back and she seems to be happy with that. I then call Alfred at work. He had just gotten there. I told him to take his time. I could drive myself to the doctor. He decides to leave work and go with me. By the time I get to the doctor and he examines me, I'm still having no contractions. And I only dilated 2 centimeters. My doctor tells me to go have lunch. So we do. I'm thinking it's going to be a long day. And I was right. The entire day and night passes and nothing is going on. I'm having contractions but they're sporadic and too far apart. I finally call my gyno's office at 2am and lie about my contractions. I was getting tired and fed up and I was determined to go to the hospital. We get to the hospital and the nurse examines me. I'd only dilated 3 centimeters. Are you kidding me? The hospital was about to release me when my water broke. I was so happy because I knew they had to keep me. 14 hours later, after having every drug available given to me, a high grade fever and being stuck at 5 centimeters for God knows how long, my doctor decides I need to have a c-section. It's about time! My mom almost came to blows with my doctor because she wanted to be in the operating room with me and the doctor was telling her only one person was allowed. I guess he saw that CW meant business and allowed her into the OR. I don't know how long the operation took. I just remember hearing a baby cry and looking up and seeing the doctor holding my baby boy. My first thought was, "Damn I thought he was a girl." My second thought was, "Thank God I already had a boy name picked out." My third thought, "I can't believe I'm a mother!"

Since that day my life hasn't been the same. And I owe it all to a skinny, smiley, toothy, funny, big-headed little boy named Darrius. He is a wonderful son and I look forward to seeing him grow up to be a wonderful man. He has truly been a joy in my life and I thank God everyday for him. It is true when they say you don't know real, unconditional love until you have a child. Even when he frustrates the hell out of me, he still has a strong hold on my heart. He will always be my baby, regardless of how old he is.

Happy Birthday Mr. D! I love you so much.

Happy Birthday to Me

Thirty-six years ago today, I was born at Crittenden Memorial Hospital in West Memphis, Arkansas.

I'm not doing anything special to celebrate my birthday. 36 isn't a special number or a milestone birthday. I'm not excited about being a year older. I'm officially in my mid-30s and I don't like it one bit. In my teens and 20s, I looked forward to celebrating my birthday. I would start making birthday announcements weeks before my birthday. The tide turned when I was 29, getting ready to turn 30. Turning 30 crept up on me. I spotted my first gray hair right before my 30th birthday. I wasn't ready mentally to turn 30. But I didn't have a choice. Time wasn't going to wait for me to prepare myself. I decided to celebrate turning 30 in style. Went to Vegas for a long weekend with friends and partied the entire weekend. It was the best.

I started being okay with being in my early 30s. I was still young. I didn't look my age. I felt great. And then 35 hit. Boom! I felt like I was headed down a slippery slope. I wanted to celebrate turning 35 in style - I wanted to go back to Vegas with friends. Things didn't turn out quite the way I had planned. Vegas trip was scrapped; no one could go. So I decided on Atlantic City. It's within driving distance and it could be an overnight trip. Well, I went to Atlantic City but it was only me and Alfred. I had a decent time but it wasn't the all out party weekend like I had in Vegas.

Thirty-five was an important birthday for me. There were things I wanted to accomplish by the time I'd turned 35. I wanted to have lost the weight I'd gained after having Darrius. I was supposed to have lost this weight back when I turned 30 but that didn't happen. I wanted to have made a career change. I had decided that if I wasn't pregant or in the process of getting pregnant by the time I turned 35, I wasn't going to have anymore kids. I always thought I didn't want anymore kids and the cut-off age was just for show. My decision had already been made a long time ago. But now, here I am, 36 years old, and wondering if that was the best decision. Thanks to medicine and science, I could still have a baby at this age, but do I want to? I sometimes regret that Darrius doesn't have a sibling. Having a brother growing up was great even though we fought all the time. But that's why siblings do. Darrius asks for a little brother or sister now. I can't imagine having an 11 year old and an infant. The age gap....

This birthday I'm feeling reflective and a little melancholy. I don't like getting older. I am going to fight getting older every step of the way. I'm going to continue to color my hair to hide the gray. I will continue to be on the lookout for crows feet and wrinkles. I don't think I'd ever go as far as to get Botox or plastic surgery. That's not my style. But I do intend on trying to keep my youthful appearance for as long as possible without looking like those women on Real Housewives of Orange County. They just take it too damn far!

I'm going to not try to feel sorry for myself on this special day. I feel blessed. I'm alive to see another year. I have a great husband and wonderful son. I have the love and support of my family. And even though it's not my dream job, I have a job that I'm good at and provides a steady paycheck. So it's not all bad. It just gets harder for me each year to feel happy about turning a year older. Maybe once I turn 40, it will be different. BTW - I am not looking forward to turning 40. :-)