Yesterday was my birthday.
My mother-in-law, sister-in-law, and nephew are in town from PA. J took the day off yesterday, and so I got to sleep in; attend a Mom’s League meeting sans kids; go for a solo run in the gorgeous Texas weather; eat my beloved ice cream cake; and even have a glorious, unheard of date with my husband (special shout-out to the fam for taking care of three babes under three for the night). And J got me a real, 14-cup Cuisinart! I’m so tired of the 2.5-cup version we thought would be sufficient back when we first wed and I ate three jars of Nutella per week. I can’t wait to bust out this bad boy.
Before A’s birth, I told J that all I wanted afterwards was to go out for oysters and martinis. And so we journeyed to a fancy seafood restaurant, in which we ate the most glorious oysters and mussels, and I drank my absolute fave: a slightly dirty Grey Goose. We decided not to eat a full meal there; instead choosing to head to our favorite sushi joint down the road. We also took a long walk around the Town Square, pretending it was 2006 and we were meandering through SoHo.
We were still home by 8:30, but we felt positively indulgent and giddy.
On my afternoon run yesterday, I thought about my intentions for my 33rd year. I want to continue to focus on our health and wellness; but I also want to remember the other person. I find that I have a tendency to hyper-focus on the things going on in my realm, so I often forget to mail the birthday card; send the thoughtful email; respond to the text; or just PICK UP THE PHONE. I want to be more present for the people I love this year.
But oh you guys: THIRTY-THREE. My thirties are positively fabulous thus far; but could they slow down, pretty please?