Just...Great.

Friday I was grouchy. No...not just grouchy. It would be far more accurate to describe my emotional state as....thoroughly disgruntled. And frankly, feeling a little bit sorry for myself.

It was my birthday you see.

I turned 38. That's right. I'm not afraid to admit to my age, even though I am careening over the hill. I am really pretty much okay with 38. I might curl up into a sobbing ball of denial at 40, but we'll see.

Anyway, instead of being pampered and adored, I spent the entire day running all over creation to get my kids ready for school and preparing for Diminutive One's sleepover that night.

The first stop was sneak-a-peek at the elementary school. It was hot and chaotic. I wrote check after check. ASP. Mealpay. Yearbook. Vocabulary book. (Hey...didn't I already pay for that. Like, with my taxes???) The costs mounted along with my irritation.

As I sat in the cafeteria enduring the cacophony and debating about whether or not Diminutive really needed another cheap logo sweatshirt that would fit him for six months at the most, I thought to myself...

"Great. This is just how I wanted to spend my birthday."

Next we went to pick up Diminutive One's one and only birthday guest. It sucks having a summer birthday. I felt for him, and yet, I couldn't help being profoundly grateful. I took the kids to McDonald's for lunch where of course, there was more noise, more chaos.

Next stop was the pool. I sat there for three hours, desperately hoping they would expend enough energy to give me some peace that evening. The heat index yesterday was 111. I'm a Northerner by birth and I don't endure searing heat with grace. After an hour I was red faced and dizzy, despite having taken a dip and guzzled well over a gallon of water. As I sat there cascading sweat, I thought to myself....

"Great. This is just how I wanted to spend my birthday."

Later I decorated the cake that I baked yesterday while the boys shrieked and whooped and generally caused more mayhem than I would have thought possible after having been at the pool for so long. They bounced from one activity to another with a freneticism that set my teeth on edge. God how I longed for them to just sit still for a while.

At one point, I allowed the Moon Sand to be taken out. Husband raised his eyebrows at that. He knows I loathe the Moon Sand with the white hot intensity of a thousand suns. Such was the depth of my desperation. When they abandoned that after only 20 minutes, leaving behind a whole community of miniature sand dunes on my kitchen table, and a goodly amount of loose sand on the floor, I thought to myself....

"Great. This is just how I wanted to spend my birthday."

After a long evening of merriment, they had at last exhausted themselves. I tucked them in with a movie and retired to my own bed with a book. Ten minutes later there was a knock on my door and I was behooved to rise and fix the skipping DVD. After another twenty minutes I was loudly requested to get the cat out of the room, because he insisted on sleeping on top of Diminutive One's guest. The cat is at least twenty pounds, the guest maybe twice that.

There were light issues. First too much, then too little. Noise issues. Pillow issues. Temperature issues. Sleepping over at someone's house for the first time issues. I got up no less than twenty times, and I read no more than a dozen pages. And as I once again settled myself in bed, wondering how long it would be until I was summoned again, I thought to myself....

"Great. This is just how I wanted to spend my birthday."

Now, it's worth mentioning, that when Husband arrived home from work that day, he came in loaded down with bags from Trader Joe's and the International Market.

"What's that?" I asked

"Uh. Groceries." he said sardonically.

"But babe, we are flat BROKE. Between what I spent on school stuff and birthday presents, we barely have enough to keep the electricity turned on until payday."

"Fuck it." he said emphatically. "I know we're broke, but it's your birthday. It's killing me that I can't buy you a present, but I'll be damned if your birthday is going to go buy without doing something. Tomorrow, I'm cooking Persian."

"But where did you get the money???" I asked.

"Never mind." he said, grinning.

Saturday morning, the boys woke with the sun. I am not a morning person, as anybody who knows me can attest to. I grumpily got out of bed and started coffee. I made cinnamon rolls for the boys. I tried not to resent the fact that I was upright and conscious. And once again I thought to myself...

"Great. This is just how I wanted to spend my birthday."

When the birthday guest departed around noon, I told husband I was going to take a nap. He said, "No problem, babe. Sleep as long as you want." I slept for four and a half hours. Nobody bothered me. Not even one time. When I awoke, it was cool and dark in the bedroom, and I could just make out a distant thunking chop chop chop from the kitchen below me. I stretched, and thought...

"Mmmmmmm. This is just how I wanted to spend my birthday."

I took a long, hot shower, again, without being interrupted. I made my way downstairs and was greeted by the delicious aromas of cinnamom, saffron, mint and cucumber intermingling deliciously. The boys, seeking sanctuary from the blistering heat, were ensconsed in their rooms, fighting fantastic and bloody battles on digital frontiers. The living room was abaondoned. The television was off.

I settled in my chair with a cup of coffee and my laptop. I listened to husband bustling around the kitchen and singing along to Garth Brooks.

Garth Brooks??

Once upon a time we had been die hard country western fans. But it was a passing fad and now either of us rarely listens to it. The music of Garth Brooks had been the soundrtack of our courting, and it never fails to transport me back to those carefree days when we danced together until the sun came up. We had no responsibilities. All we had was each other. And it was enough. I sighed dreamily, happily remembering and marvelling that fourteen years later that same charming guy was in my kitchen cooking me dinner. I thought to myself....

"You know....this is just how I wanted to spend my birthday"

A moment later husband appeared at my side. Without saying a word, he gave me a kiss. Not the chaste peck he bestowed upon me daily in the presence of the boys, who would go into convulsions of disgust at the merest hint of passion. This kiss was long and slow and sweet and moist. He smelled exotic and tantalizing.

"What was that for?" I asked

"I was just thinking...about the early days."

"Me too."

"Really?"

"Yeah."

He smiled at me, and for a moment, he looked exactly the same as he had 14 years ago when I first set eyes on him in a smoke filled honky tonk. He looked exactly the same as he had the first time his smiling hazel eyes had looked into mine and he asked me to dance.

Twenty minutes later we were all seated at the dinner table eating a magnificent Persian feast. The boys chattered about this and that. Husband and I just listened, sipping our wine. I thought to myself....

"I am one hell of a lucky woman and this is just how I wanted to spend my birthday."