When do I Sign up for Social Security?

Today is my birthday.  I am 48 years old.  I'm  forcing myself to declare that to the blogging world so as to prepare myself for finally being able to accept my age by the time I turn fifty.  Which is not for another two years, I might add.  Accepting my age is not easy for me.  In fact, I'd like to ignore it all together.  The age part, not the birthday celebrations.  Alas, I know it's best that I accept it and roll with it, so I'm starting now since it will take the next 24 months to soak in that I am on my way to AARP membership.  Gulp.

But let's not focus on that, shall we?  Tomorrah's anotha day, Rhett.  Let's just talk about the fun stuff.  Like the surprise that awaited me this morning in the kitchen.  When I rolled out of bed at 5:30am, I found a sweet little box, with a card, a couple of cupcakes and a floor full of balloons, compliments of the sweetest daughter a mother could ever want. 

She knows how much I love a surprise, even a tiny one, and she did not disappoint.  She set it all up after she came in from work late last night, and I was snoozing just a few feet away in the adjacent bedroom.  Lucky for her, I sleep like the dead.  My favorite part?  Other than the upside down Red Velvet cupcakes?

And the stainless steel bracelet that has the Paris subway routes etched on it?   (Fitting don't you think, since my phone got mugged from me there?  Helloooooo, Gambetta Station. )

It was all of the handwritten messages on the balloons.  All I can say, is she knows me well.  Oh, and I failed to take a picture of the one that said, "fart" on it.  That girl knows how to make me laugh, she does.  Who has the best daughter ever?  Hula, that's who.

Surprise!

Please ignore the fact that this picture is out of focus, crooked, underexposed and generally bad, but Mama showed up at her surprise birthday party about five minutes before I had my act together, and I barely had time to turn on the camera before she walked in the door.  I didn't get to focus, check my settings or even turn on the flash.  Never mind all that.  It still gives you the general idea of her reaction.

Girlfriend didn't have any idea there was a party for her until she reached the bottom of the church steps and saw everyone sitting there waiting on her.  We got her.  We got her gooood.  Ha!

Hooray, Hooray, Somebody Had a Birthday!

Guess who turned one last week, and guess who learned how to eat birthday cake? In fact, Special Delivery figured out what Hula has known for years, cake is a mighty good thing. He dove right in and didn’t come up for air until it was gone…each and every crumb.

Special Delivery’s Rules for eating cake:

First you touch it. And gently remove the candle and gaze at it longingly.
Then you smell it.
And then you taste it and say, “Mmmmmm.” And if it’s good, you cram a fistful into your mouth and proceed to gum it to death.
And give your aunt the “Wuh?” look when she laughs out loud.
While you poke in bite.
After bite.
After bite.
Of ooey, gooey cake and frosting. Ah, frosting. Manna from heaven.
It’s nice to offer to share a bite with your cousin too.
And when you’re finished and your belly is tight as a tick, and your face is covered in butter cream.
You get a nice warm bath. And if your aunt does something funny you show her your four little Chiclet teeth.