But here's the real truth.
You know who didn't care that it was my birthday? MY KIDS!!!!
I book-ended the day with 2 hour of straight crying.
The morning session was Hazel, who I took to daycare for the second time. She was seriously not having it, even though I STAYED WITH HER THE WHOLE TIME. So for 2 hours I held her and tried to comfort her and for 2 HOURS she cried/whined on my shoulder. 2 HOURS!!!!!!
The late evening session was Nola. She woke up around 11pm and cried and screamed from her crib, despite several efforts from Matt and I to comfort her and get her back to sleep. So from 11 to 2 she protested sleep. So why fight it? We got her out of bed and let her do whatever she wanted. I went to bed (you know, cause it was my birthday so I got to go to bed at 2am), Matt stayed up with her until 4.
Thank goodness for all the stuff in between.
Matt came home early from work to help with the kids - WITH PRESENTS! My mom baked me a cake with a peach pie in it. My Nonna made me a lamb roast and artichokes. My Zia and Zio surprised me with cream lemoncello. A good portion of the family squished into my moms house and rubbed elbows at the dinner table. We drank, we laughed, we bribed our kids with chocolate.
It also doesn't hurt that I had a completely separate celebration the week before with the other side of the family. They all cared very much that it was my birthday. They came with gifts, food and smiles. Go figure. SMILES!!!!
Even though my kids didn't care it was my birthday, I wouldn't trade the day I had to go back to those years that my lap was empty on my birthday. A full lap of screaming children trumps an empty lap and day of the year.
35 it is!