Look What Happens when I skip a few Posts......

My kids, the former babies, went ahead and turned FOUR.

Although I am a little beside myself that I am the mother of two kids rather than two toddlers (I mean, lets be real, I am still bewildered that I am a mother at all), I am more phased by the fact that older kids = older mom.  Sometimes I look at my face in the mirror, see my smile lines and forehead creases, and I just cannot help but think, HOW CAN I BE THIS OLD?????

But, for the past week, I have calmed myself by reminding myself at least it is not *my* birthday.  My birthday is still 5 months away.  It's bitter-sweet because even though I hate turning a year older, I absolutely love my birthday.  So, after I feel relieved it's not my birthday, I feel disappointed.

It's complicated.

This is the first year the kids were aware it was their birthday.  They have been to a few birthday parties and noted that birthdays meant cake and presents.  For the past four months, Hayden has started his morning by asking, "Is it my Birthday?  Is it my Birthday?"

After the 115th time, it became annoying.  So, I was thrilled when I could finally answer, "Yes.  YES.  YES!!!!!!

We threw them a party at a little gym.  They ate pizza.  They got presents.  They had cake.  We picked out the cake together; the pink sand was Brenna's idea.

It was pretty good cake, as long as you like things that taste like sugar.

I learned two things from this whole birthday-party throwing experience:
1) Birthday parties are expensive.
2) Birthday parties are exhausting.

When we got home, my husband plopped on the couch and I went into the kitchen with the bakery box of leftover cake.  I placed most of the cake in a Tupperware container and placed it in the freezer.  Leftover freezer cake is the best kind of cake.  Then I noticed there was a lot of cake residue stuck to the bottom of the box.  And tons of icing abandoned on the side.

I scraped my finger/hand along the bottom of the box and sides of the box to acquire an impressive, although unattractive, mountain of cake mush.  Cake mush is the second best of cake, especially since no one else will eat it - so forks be damned and hands be shovels!  Usually, when shovel cake mush into my mouth, it's in the privacy of my kitchen at 5am.  But in my fatigued state, I forgot it was the middle of the day.  I looked up to see my husband staring at me, eyes wide and jaw agape.

I guess I am lucky it took him this long to see me in such an act.  And, I will  not lie, I have visited the freezer cake every day since the birthday party.

My ignominious interaction with cake mush was not my intention for writing today - but between this and the tangent about my age, my writing time has encountered lunch time.

And NO, I am not going to eat cake for lunch.


I already did that before my morning swim.