I know the premise of this blog is all baby related, but since I will be the housing unit for said future child for 40 (hopefully) weeks and it's nourishment until he/she decides to wean, I think I could do a little Krissy talk for a bit.
Okay, Krissy whine is more appropriate.
Yesterday was my birthday. Now, this was not a monumental birthday, i.e. it wasn't my 10th, 13th, 16th, 18th, 21st or 30th bday, but it was still the anniversary of the date I entered the world.
As usual my mom went above and beyond just because she's my mom and is happier than anyone else that I am alive.
My doctor and coworkers remembered my bday (the truth is, I think my coworkers only remember anyone else on staff's bday because it means the doctor will buy us lunch and cake). And, in his usual fashion, my doctor closely examined my face for wrinkles. What a charmer.
Husband, however, disappointed me. For many years now, I've received a dozen roses from him, delivered to my work on my birthday (or close to it). Not this year. And when I was asked by people what he got me for my birthday, all I could say was, "Nothing." Not even a card.
Now, when he got home from work he brought me a dozen roses, but they appeared to have been bought last minute and weren't the perkiest roses if you know what I mean.
In his defense, he promised me that next weekend, when we have some free time to go shopping together, he wants to buy me new clothes for summer as none of my clothes from last year fit anymore. Don't know why, but something about losing 120 pounds makes your old wardrobe baggy ;-) But next weekend isn't my birthday! Yesterday was my birthday!
I've never been overly concerned with my birthday before. I've never really cared whether anyone remembered or forgot, but this year it's bothering me. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's the fact that I have siblings who ignored the anniversary of my birth as well.
Maybe I am just being a pain in the butt :-)
In other news, six more days!