It's been a crazy birthday weekend. When our first two granddaughters came along, granddaughter number two managed to stretch her birthday out for a whole week. She figured she ought to be the one to pick out what we eat, watch on television, play, etc. After all, it was her WEEK. Shows you how sharp I was as a kid; it never occurred to me to expect anything but a cake and a present–hopefully on the same day. Being child number three my expectations were low.
Anyway, Friday was my big 7-0! I can't even wrap my head around a number that big. It can't be true. It can't be possible. Aches and pains notwithstanding, I guess it still beats the alternative. Just like that Tracy Lawrence song says, 'Time Marches On.' It certainly does. Too fast! It seems like just yesterday we were planning our daughter's wedding and now here it is 27 years later and we're (and by we I mean not me) planning her daughter's wedding. SLOW DOWN!
But I digress, as usual. My mind tends to go off in tangents and corralling it can be like herding cats in a sack. Or 14 grandkids in a car. Equally daunting.
Anyway, I awoke Friday which, at my age, is a celebration in and of itself, and spent the day fighting the urge to do any housework but I persevered. By golly, I can stick to my guns when I want to. David went off to town in search of a haircut and I sat in my recliner watching my favorite game show while I awaited his return. He was taking so long I thought, 'Wow, he's going to buy me a gift. Or at the very least some flowers.' He walked in empty-handed a couple of hours later. I was not surprised. I don't need any more stuff in this house anyway. I've entered stage three of (1) Want stuff, (2) Got stuff, (3) Gotta get rid of stuff.
I received a nice bundt cake with no card so I mused as to who could have sent it. We immediately cut large slices and boy was it delicious. It turned out to be from our niece Shannon. She knows me so well. Meanwhile, hubby looked at it and remarked, 'It's your birthday?' I know he's getting old (He's older than I.) but dang. He's only known me for 50+ years so I guess I'll give him a break.
Saturday our bride-to-be granddaughter, Mica, came over to visit with our grand puppy, Ryder. She needed to use our printer to make some things for her wedding which takes place in less than a week! When I married, I barely dressed myself let alone helped get it ready. In the meantime, two other granddaughters came to bake and decorate my birthday cake. I have taught them well in that department. It's a good thing, too, since these old hands can no longer grip an icing bag.
While this was going on three of our grandsons insisted on staying a couple of nights. Somehow, spending the night with Nana and Papa has turned into a marathon. Overnight stays are no longer a thing; it must be two (or three or four if Mom and Dad would allow it). I love it for the most part since we usually play endless games or, weather permitting, a little one-on-one basketball. Unfortunately, for me, school has started and the kids are homeschooled so guess who gets to help the ones who are spending the night with their schoolwork? I'll give you a hint– not Papa.
There's a reason I'm not a schoolteacher. I don't mind helping them since the older ones know what to do but I'm always afraid I'll just confuse the sixyear- old by telling him something completely different from how Mom does it. We know school can be hard enough without Nana confusing them. Our ten-year-old doesn't hesitate to let me know if I'm differing from Mom's way of doing things. It'd give me an inferiority complex if it bothered me. It doesn't.
But back to the subject at hand if I can remember what it was. Oh, yeah, my birthday weekend. Sunday all the kids and the rest of the grandkids came over to celebrate and I enjoyed not having to lift a finger. This time they got to do all the buying, cooking, and cleaning. We played a few rousing hands of 'Phase 10' and 'Skip-Bo'. I should have never taught those stinkers how to play. They never give poor Nana a break and beat me regularly.
I'd like to acknowledge all the “Happy Birthday” wishes I received on my social media account. Thank you all.
'Happy Birthday to Me!'