Thirty Seven Years

I turn 37 today. How did that happen?

Age is just a number, I realize. I fully believed that until recently:

• Just over a month ago, I was diagnosed with fibromyalgia. 
• My husband used the words, "skunk stripe" when I asked him how my hair looked in the back. 
• I've been a mother OVER half my life.
• My medicine container needs to be upgraded to the 3x-a-day model. 

Aside from some body aches and a few [hundred] grey hairs probably caused from my children, my mind can't wrap around the fact that I have lived for Thirty.Seven.Years. 

My eighteen-year-old self, a new mother, would not have predicted my life as I sit now. I have not accomplished anything.*

 Not. A. Single. Thing.** 

I am getting a little long in the tooth, as my husband would say, to go back and fix/finish some things now. The truth of the matter is not so much that I haven't accomplished anything, it's the fact that I really don't know what I want. At the age of 37, I still don't know what makes me, me.

I am surrounded by amazing, successful, and confident people. Some are younger, some older. Some are exactly the same age. I am jealous that they were able to figure out what they were meant to do and go for it. Jealous may not be the right word; it's not a green-eyed monster kind of jealousy. More of a sadness that I can't have the same success. 

I've been fortunate to have pursued a variety of avenues. While most I enjoyed, and in the moment thought it was what I was meant to do forever, nothing has stuck. 

As the children have grown, I've tried to be a good example for them. I've even tried to encourage them to go for the things that they want, not because society or even their dad and I expect it, but to do the things that will make them happy. Of course, being children, they don't want to listen to the old lady. They know everything already. 

Some things never change. 

At any rate, I did name this blog "Cool and Hip, I Am Not" in 2008 when I started it. Maybe I have unconsciously been trying to fulfill that label. Or not fill. Whatever. 

Today's my birthday. And I'll cry if I want to.  

* I know I have three kids. Still have a few years to go before the final results come in on how well we did raising them. 

**Again, I know. Three kids who are awesome at the current moment. But I am whining talking about other things. My professional life beyond motherhood.

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Stream of Consciousness: Doing it on Monday

As you may or may not have known, we had birthday week this past week with the final festivities coming to an end yesterday. I had planned to do this entry last night but just didn't have energy once everyone left.

Let's do this:

For the last fourteen years, I have bit my tongue. Said nothing. Waited. I have done things I didn't want to do. I have withheld infomation. Never lied. Just withheld. All to keep the peace. But for what reason? Whom am I trying to protect.

She is driving me crazy. It's the simple things. I know it is. Big Daddy says ignore it. But he has only been around for the last fourteen years. I've been around for 36. I know the score.


She thinks she's got everyone fooled. The only fool is her. And those that bow down to her wishes and throw her up on that ivory pedestal.

I am waiting. The time is coming. Her time is up. Once J is gone, she has no one to use as a cover or excuse.

I have never been so insulted as I was yesterday. But just like every other time, I bit my tongue but only slightly. The time is near....

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With nine, you get whine

Birthday week is drawing to a close.

Did you catch that?

Birthday w-e-e-k.

You can't really blame the kid for speading the love for as long as possible. It's more cake. More favorite food. Potential gifts.

Normally, we have the kids' birthdays the weekend before, if it happens to fall in the beginning of the week. This year, with it being Easter weekend (for the third year in a row) we chose to push it to this weekend. I should have seen what was going to happen.

Tuesday (on the actual BIRTHDAY) he requests pancakes for breakfast. I am out of mix, so I make fried eggs, sausage, and cinnamon toast. He would also like to eat at Beef O'Brady's because Big Daddy is going to be home for a change for dinner. Big Daddy is late-we run to Burger King as Mommy had no back up plan. We did not have cake here-he had mini-cupcakes at school.

Wednesday he has requested pancakes for breakfast. Daddy brought home doughnuts, and it is possible that I woke up late, so he happily ate those. We eat at Beef's for dinner.

Thursday, I make his pancakes. He takes this as an omen for a birthday week, apparently.

On Friday, he comes to my room with his buddy and asks if he can go to buddy's house for birthday gala. I say no, that we already have plans-we'll have buddy over another time. Darrin replies, "It's my birthday. I can move it to next weekend."

I think you know my answer to that.

Friday night we go and get groceries. And of course, he is helping me pick out cake, icing, ice cream and stuff for his birthday. I am thinking this birthday business has gotten old. We are leaving store and he says to me, "And tomorrow for my birthday breakfast I would like to have..."

Yeah. Right.

The kids ask if we can stop at Sonic and get some ice cream. I say, "It's up to Daddy." We are about to turn and I need to know his answer so I can get in the correct lane. He says, "Well...it IS Darrin's birthday."

This summer, I am going to say I want to go to the beach. "You know, it was Darrin's birthday in April."

Along with the birthday week, he has seemed to have acquired a slight attitude problem. It was like a switch was turned on in that boy. And lets just say we had a talkin' to this morning, and tonight he seems right as rain. I hope it sticks.

(We all know it won't.)

Ok. Since I wrote that, I have had to talk to him twice for his attitude. Geez.

Here are some pictures for your viewing pleasure....

OOH. Spongebob puzzle!

What time is it?

Video games? Oh my!

Spongebob is my hero.

Techdecks. Yay.

3-D Explosion.

Tiny pieces for mom to vacuum up? Sweet!

Box'o cash

This thing is as big as I am.

Tonight, the neighbor boys are spending the night. Four boys are trying to decide a movie to watch. Every time one makes a suggestion, three say yes, one says no.

I am so over birthday week.

Through the years...

When Nicholas was six months old, I told Big Daddy that I wanted to have another baby.

People have taken longer to decide what to eat at McDonald's, because two weeks later I had a positive pregnancy test.


Other than a slight scare at the beginning, a slight case of gestational diabetes, and growing to gargantuan proportions, I had a rather uneventful pregnancy.


On Friday, April 14, 2000, I went in for scheduled induction. It was about three weeks early as they were afraid he would be larger than 10 pounds if I went 40 weeks, (Nicholas was 10 pounds at birth) plus there was a risk because I had just had a baby a year earlier.

(In hindsight, I might have voted to keep him in and had a C-section...oh well.)

(Might.)

At 3:05pm, Darrin Alexander was born weighing 8lb. 11oz.

To say we are lucky is an understatement. He was such an easy baby. Hardly cried. Ate well.

As he grew into a little boy, he has continued to bring us nothing but joy. He is the sweetest, most caring child. Don't get me wrong-he can get an attitude. (Not sure where that came from; it must be a recessive gene. ::cough::)

He has always been my baby. I think he always will.

Today, he turns nine years old. And if having him meant I had to have two babies in a year, I'd do it all over again.

New baby

About six months

Nine months old

First Birthday

18 months old (I won an award for this picture)

Second Birthday (My mom is beside him.

Fishing for the first time. He also fell in the lake. Scared me to death.

Third Birthday.

At the park. One of my all time favorite pictures.

Nicholas' first day of preschool. One of my favorite "brother" pictures.

Fourth birthday. Look at Nicholas' face. This was probably the beginning of, "Darrin gets everything!"

First day of preschool. Ok, this may be my favorite picture of all time.

Preschool picture day...(taken by me)

Fifth birthday @ Chuck E. Cheese. Wee.

October 2005

seventh birthday

Eighth birthday

To be continued...

My love don't cost a thing

Today is my husband's birthday. We think it is cool because:

a) today is Friday the 13th, and
b) he is 43. I am 34.

If I were to post a picture of him (which I won't) you'd never, EVER guess he is 43. If you knew him in real life, you'd never EVER EVER guess he is 43.

For realz.

It sounds so cliche, but he totally completes me. We are total opposites personality-wise. I was literally nothing until I met him.

We don't buy birthday presents for each other as of late; you know, in these hard economic times....I figure my gift would be a public proclamation of love.

My Dearest Husband,
I have been thinking all day of the things I wanted to say to you on your birthday. Of course, they keep coming out sappy, and we just don't do sappy. But really, deep down, you have to admit we can be.

Twelve birthdays we have spent together, and I have to say, I love you more today than I did even a year ago. You are my very best friend, and even when you leave your dirty clothes beside the bed for me to trip over on my way to the closet, I can't imagine not having your clothes there.

I love that the kids miss you when you are gone and don't dread your arrival.
I love that you love Sci-Fi but aren't a nerd about it.
I love that you are fiercely loyal to your family, work, and those two shirts and one pair of jeans even though you own more than that.
I love that you'll help me plan a menu, compile a grocery list, and go with me to the store.
I love that you have taken our vows literally; in sickness and health, richer and poorer. We have been through them all. Shame the richer didn't last longer.
I love that you are willing to sacrifice so much for me to go to school.
I love that you get me.
I love that nothing bothers you.
I love how your sense of humor works.
I love how we can talk without talking.
I love how you picked me.

There are a million and one more reasons why I love you. I can't wait to list a million more.
Happy Birthday, Babe
Love, Me

Be careful what you wish for

A comment was made last night in Geometry class about the girl that sits next to me. Apparently she is turning 21 this weekend. I didn't think much about it all the time, but for some reason my 21st birthday popped in my head on the way to school.

Clearly I do my best thinking whilst driving. (See entry below)

It is close to my birthday and I turned 21 :::cough13cough::: year(s) ago. Or will have in a couple of weeks.

November 9th to be precise. Please make all checks out to Heather. All major credit cards accepted here. Thanks.

Anyway, way back in 1905, on that particular birthday I was married not to Big Daddy, but to whom I'll refer to as The Practice Husband (TP).

TP knew that I was looking forward to this particular milestone. I already had a child, gotten married, and acquired a step-son also known as Satan. I had done things unconventionally to this point, why couldn't I have a "normal" leap into adulthood? (I totally see how twisted my thinking was at that young age, but follow me...)

TP had promised to take me to a particular hotspot in Nashville at that time. He emphasized how he was going to have to save up the money to go as if we were paupers and I wanted to go to White Castle. He made a point every few days on how he had gotten paid with this job*, or that job, and now we have X dollars....I arranged for a sitter, Satan was staying at his mom's, and of COURSE had bought a new outfit and got my hair did.

[*He was an independent contractor. If independent means "lazy, lying, cheating drunk." Please note my use of the tense was.]

Day of birthday- I am sitting in the chair waiting for him to get home and showered. The baby sitter would be there soon. He walks in, tosses a Wal-Mart bag into my lap. Inside the bag was a camera and an unsigned (and most likely unread by him) birthday card. He then says to me, "Sorry. We can't go out tonight. I spent the money on your gift and I needed parts for a job. I hate wrapping presents and you know the card is from me; it says "To my Wife."

After I cooked his dinner, he asked me to run up to the liquor store, "Since you are legal now."

I went. That one time. Ironically, we separated a mere six weeks later.

The point I am trying to make was about THE birthday. The girl last night said, "I'm not sure what the big deal is, but I am totally excited." She drives it home, at least for me.

That birthday was ruined for me. Not because it was my 21st, but because he didn't go out of his way to make it special. It wouldn't have mattered if it were my 20th, 23rd, or even my 30th.

My current husband or as I like to refer to him as, 'first husband,' knows this story and has done something exceptional for each of the previous eleven birthdays. If I had a "crappy day" it was of my own doing. We all know, it's not about the money. This time of year is our, how shall I say, economically unstimulated. It's not the gifts that make my day. (They do add spice, I'll be the first to admit.)


So, Kasey, I hope it's a good one girl. Surround yourself with family and good friends. And if what I heard was true, perhaps a designated driver. Turning 21 is a pretty neat deal, but knowing you're loved-- that's the real gift.