I survived birthday week. Actually I think I survived it better than I have some of the previous years. Brent showed up after some of the kids, but before most of them. When the mini hot dogs took longer than anticipated to cook, I remembered why I married my husband. He is phenomenal on the spur of the moment with kids. He and his siblings were raised that way. Its one of the great things about him, I noticed it early on.
Often times I'll be talking with a friend, and she will say, how do you get your husband do that? In reference to anything about parenting. My response he is the one that is good with kids, I'm just the one that stays home with them. I'm pretty sure he thinks that is nonsense and if you ask him he wouldn't actually say this, but if you jogged his memory, I'm pretty sure he would smile if you got him to remember me playing with our nieces and nephews, when we were engaged and dating. He would always send me love text messages about me being good with the nieces and nephews then again he was twitterpated so maybe I wasn't...
Point is, thank goodness for my dreamy husband
And I survived birthday week!
I often wonder how my mother handled my birthday, my dad's birthday three days later, then my sister's birthday three days after that. Then my brother's two weeks after that. Some years I think maybe I won't go all out for the valentine's birthdays, but then I remember my mother always gave it her all, and how much J loves birthdays, and I just can't scrimp.