This past weekend we celebrated my 34th birthday. We celebrate in our household with a birthday week. You get to call all the shots, have extra glasses of wine, choose all the activities and get full control of the remote because birthday.
It is amazing how a baby can alter or ruin all of this.
Saturday night my sister stayed home with the baby while the Husband and I went out for a lovely, expensive, over-indulgent dinner that lasted 3 hours. Can I first say how quickly a glass of wine goes to my head with no baby in tow? With baby, I can drink a bottle and never find a buzz because if I’m not careful that baby would take my phone and start ordering thousands of dollars in shoes from a foreign country I can’t pronounce. Or something along those lines. So I have to remain on my game. Back to the dinner portion, it was fucking amazing. And I ordered all the food and dessert and practically floated out of that place.
My 21 year old self was at a bar, in New Hampshire, taking shots and making out with a really hot guy, whose name I never quite got.
Like any normal 34/32 year old adults, we stopped at the grocery store for formula and wine before heading home, where I immediately fell asleep in a happy food stupor.
Sunday brought my actual day of birth which started with brunch with the in-laws and mimosas. It all fell apart after there. There was a trip to the beach that took hours to get to due to nap fights and other priorities. The baby shit all over her car seat on the way there, which we were not prepared for. Damn you baby swimmer diapers and my lack of an extra swimsuit. The rest of the day went from there with no chance to save it. By the time we were home the Husband went to mow and I attempted, for an hour, to get Cora to bed. Attempt being the key word. At the hour mark we were both in tears and I sat there thinking, this is my birthday. Rocking a pissed off baby and crying.
My 21-year-old self was sitting in the corner taking shots and mocking me.
I went to wave the white flag at my husband who got her asleep within minutes. That made me cry harder. She has been preferring him more nights over me lately and he was leaving town the next night for work. I took a shower, poured a glass of wine and we finally sat down to our lovely meal at 9pm. The baby promptly woke 5 minutes into the meal with a stuffy nose. Needless to say, sleep has been non-existent the past couple of nights due to said stuffy nose.
My 21-year-old self didn’t have slept the couple of nights after that birthday but that was because she met Mr. Summer Love and had crazy sex every night.
34-year-old self. No birthday sex because sleep.
But I do have the love of my life. And a baby, who despite it all, is incredibly sweet in the middle of the night when she is sick and wanting to cuddle. And coffee. I have coffee. 21-year-old self didn’t need that to survive.
Remind me next year to book a hotel room with the husband, minus the baby.