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Worst Day Ever

Last week was Noah’s 6th birthday.  He’s been talking about his birthday since the day after his 5th birthday last year so, needless to say, he’s been pretty excited as we approached the big day.  The problem with this birthday, however, (and with every birthday for him from now until forever) is that his little brother’s birthday is 5 days before his.

Obviously, this is entirely my fault and it has ruined his life.

The Saturday before his birthday, we threw a huge party at our house for his little brother, Luke.  It was Luke’s very first birthday so it was kind of a big deal. I invited the entire family from out of town.  I also, because I know this is tough on Noah, made sure to invite several kids Noah’s age so that he would have kids to play with while we celebrated his baby brother.


On Sunday, I had all of the out-of-town family over for a special “family party” just for Noah.  We swam, opened presents, ate pizza, and decorated Batman cupcakes.  When all of the family had to leave, Noah declared that this was “the worst birthday ever.”


Shake it off.  He’s tired and full of cake. He expected a giant party at a trampoline park with all of his friends.  Fine.  This will happen eventually.  But, he has an early August birthday. It is damn near impossible to round up all of the friends that he wants.  I promised him a party in September after school starts.  “It will stretch your birthday out a whole month!”  I promised.  This did not do much to soothe his miserable heart.

On Wednesday, his actual birthday comes around. I divided up his presents so he would have some to open before he heads off to camp and some to open at his birthday dinner that night.

He opens the first present.  As he’s tearing the paper, I realize I don’t have my phone.  I wanted to take a picture.  I run into the other room to grab my phone out of my purse, turn around quickly to snap a photo, and BAM.  I smash my phone into Noah’s mouth, almost knocking his loose front tooth out.  Cue the blood.  Cue the tears.


He had run up to me to give me a hug and tell me thank you.  And I (basically) smacked him the face for it. Best mom ever.

After the tears were dried, the blood wiped up, and the rest of the presents opened, he asked me where the cupcakes were to take to his summer camp class.  DAMMIT!!  It never even occurred to me to send cupcakes to summer camp.  Awesome mom award goes to me.

Okay, no biggie.  I’ll send cupcakes on Friday.

To make up for it, I threw a handful of suckers in his lunch box and told him he could share them with his friends at lunch.  Did I count the suckers to make sure there were enough for everyone?  Nope.  Did he hand them out to a few friends, only to have several friends mad at him and then not have any left over for himself?  Yep.  Was he crying when I picked him up from camp?  Of course he was.

It’s official.  I am the world’s greatest mother.

Okay.  I will redeem myself at dinner.  That night, Noah had specifically requested to go out to eat where he could order waffles.  Awesome.  We went to a local breakfast joint that serves excellent waffles.  Halfway through dinner, Noah stops eating.  When I ask him what’s wrong, he whispers in my ear that he has to poop and we need to leave the restaurant “right now!”  Noah doesn’t poop in public bathrooms so, back home we go.


I will do better next year.  I don’t know if it is possible to make it any worse.  Happy birthday Noah!


Best present ever…

Last week was my birthday.  Now, as you grow older and you have kids, obviously, your birthdays are not quite the celebrations that they used to be but, people still send you awesome texts and facebook messages and you feel good.  Awesome, right?

Well, this year, Noah decided to give me the greatest gift a mother could ever ask for.

The morning of my birthday, I got ready, took Noah to school (in which he told his teacher it was his mommy’s birthday and it was really cute), and went to work.  Around 9:30am, one of my coworkers said, “Hey, why is your eye so red?”  I told her that I had just been messing with it and it was probably just irritated.  By noon, my eye was a bit watery so I ran home at lunch and took my contacts out.  No biggie.  By 2pm, my right eye was almost swollen shut, goopy, and runny.  And, to make the day even better, my left eye was now bright red too.

You guessed it!  The best present in the world that a 3 year old boy can give to his mommy on her birthday is… wait for it… PINK EYE!!  To make matters worse, 2 days later, we discovered that he had given the pink eye to daddy too!  Who doesn’t love a gift you can share with family?!


I was able to get to the eye doctor right away, get some drops for me and Matt, and start the healing process.  Against everyone’s advice, I took the time away from work and parenting to go shopping and spend my birthday money.  And I actually spent it on myself!!  (Although I did buy a few things for Noah.)  I worked really hard to only touch stuff I was planning to buy and I rubbed hand sanitizer on probably every five minutes.  But, when I actually went up to purchase my items, I made sure to look down at my feet to avoid any possible recognition of the gnarly mess that I call eyes.

After a few days, Matt finally says, “I have a confession to make.”  I immediately start thinking about all of the horrible things that he could have done.  But, Matt’s kind of perfect so it couldn’t be that bad.

He says, “You remember a week ago when we kept Noah home from school because his eyes were so goopy with allergies?”


“Well, that day, I let him take a nap on your pillow and he may have rubbed all of that eye-goo all over your pillow case.  And I didn’t tell you… or wash the sheets.  Sorry.”

Seriously!?!?!  Well, we then were able to figure out that Matt shares a pillow with me when we take turns helping Noah fall asleep in his room at night.  Serves him right!

By Monday of this week, my eyes were back to normal.  I still had drops to put in daily so I have been wearing my glasses.  When I get to work on Monday morning, my fabulous coworkers thought it would be so funny to put “No Cooties Beyond this Point” all over the office.  And, in my office, they plastered the walls with gross pictures of giant red, goopy eye balls.  Happy Birthday, Callie!

Hey, Noah.  Next year, please just get me a card.  And maybe a hug.  (After you wash your hands.)

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