Today is FireDad’s birthday. It’s rainy and nasty out so we’ll go with a picture I took of us on Mother’s Day.

Unfortunately, one of his presents didn’t arrive on time (but happily I’ll be getting a refund on shipping if it doesn’t arrive today). I’d talk about his presents but one of his gifts was getting to sleep in this morning and I’m then taking the kids with me so he has some alone quiet time this morning. So he won’t open anything until probably after he reads the blog. And he won’t open the big present until after I get home from dress rehearsal tonight. Ahem.
All the same, I am wishing him a wonderful birthday. I’m excited to be married to a man who is now only a year younger than me again. It makes me feel less old.
I had a lovely, lovely birthday.
My children woke up in good moods. My Husband made me a delicious breakfast before he had to go teach a fire propane class. My Mom showed up and went to church where my boys behaved like little angels. I got to do a quick newspaper photo. I made an amazing dinner and some great cupcakes. My sports photos from Friday night looked great in a full page spread in today’s paper.
And I took a great photo of myself with my two boys. (Woo for remotes!)

Now I plan on relaxing with my loving Husband, home safe from his day and smelling of that wonderful post-fire smell.
29 is shaping up to be a lovely year.
I had a busy, wonderful, exhausting week. The weather was mostly gorgeous, allowing for some outside time and extra beauty from our local flowers. It was as if Mother Nature was throwing me a birthday party all week.








The last picture is of the nice little surprise that my friend had for me at coffee on Friday morning. And, yes, those are Twilight plates because my friend group is just that lame awesome.
My birthday is tomorrow. As I am ending 28 with a bang, I can only imagine that 29 will be a year of wonderful growth, awesome opportunities and another 525,600 minutes of love. Love, love, love.
I remember walking up the front steps of the Carnegie Public Library in East Liverpool, Ohio. The smell of libraries takes me to my childhood even now. The children’s book room, at that time, was a wonderful light blue and the ceilings were high. I remember getting my first library card, the feeling of pride that it gave me. My mother taught me how to read, the wonder of books and to love my local library. I hope I teach my sons the same thing.
When I was little, she would have me help her clean the bathroom. I would make “soup” in the toilet, happily scrubbing the blue bubbles while she carefully cleaned the sink. As I grew, the bathroom cleaning became one of my weekly chores. She taught me to clean that spot behind the faucet that most people don’t think to look at (but I always do if I visit your bathroom). She taught me the value of working hard, even when people aren’t going to see the results because maybe they just might. I hope to teach my sons the same thing.
I was in middle school, awkward age that it was. I had a friend over. We were sitting on my bed listening to Mariah Carey. My mother burst through my bedroom door, grabbed my hair brush and started singing “Hero” at the top of her lungs. I was mortified. My friend thought my mom was so cool. I thought my friend was off her rocker. My mom taught me that being silly and laughing were important. I hope to teach my sons the same thing.
She worked hard, finishing her degree(s) after I was born. She went on and got her CPA which is no small feat. She has worked hard in a male dominated field. She told me, time and time again, that I could be whatever I wanted to be. When I went to her when BigBrother was eight months old, exhausted after a miscarriage and working six days a week in yet another male dominated industry, she supported my desire to find a way to work from home. She told me that it wouldn’t be easy but she told me that I could do it. She always told me I could do it, no matter what my newest passion of the moment was. She has been my biggest cheerleader, my biggest challenger. I hope to be the same for my sons.
Today is my mom’s birthday. She taught me much more than these four little anecdotes. I am grateful for all she has taught, for all I have learned (however slowly). I am hopeful that she will teach my sons a lesson or two over the years as well.

Happy Birthday, Mom.