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Level 42

Today is my birthday. So, you know, I got to sleep in (albeit in my son’s bed) and I only had to issue two time-outs before sending the kids off to camp. I used the good sh!t in the shower (though someone ought to let Fresh know that their ungrippable bombs of soap are apt to cause more injury than freshness). My daughter packed my lunch – a ceramic robot with an angular heart taped to the coin slot (nothing in, nothing out). I “forgot” it at home and traipsed to the corner deli for flaccid sushi.

Stress over a birthday outfit? Not at this age. Just zip myself into a onesie and go to work!

Stress over a birthday outfit? Not at this age. Just zip myself into a onesie and go to work!

See, I turned 42. So there isn’t really a reason to make this birthday the best thing ever. Social media is giving me lots of warm fuzzies today and my office mate trucked in goodies from Doughnut Plant. The kids are looking forward to handing me gifts my husband bought for me (oh please lord, let it be headphones) and showering me with more art when we all get home. Apparently there is a some kind of technique involving sunscreen where, if you spray it on your marker drawing of a rainbow, it bleeds through magically to the other side. I’m so glad I spent the extra money on the brand containing helioplex.

Hanging over my head this birthday is the stress of throwing my son’s birthday party this coming Sunday. This is the first party we’re having for him. I never bothered with parties for my kids before they turned 4. Did they have friends before then? Or just playmates their mother chose for them based on which other moms she wanted to hang out with who also had kids? I’ve lined up some entertainment and secured our building party room but I have been in denial about the rest of it. Cake, crafts, candles that still have some wicks left…those will all just magically manifest day of, right?

There is just something about me that hates party planning.

So I leave with you some lyrics from LEVEL 42’s “Something About You” because I would like to think they are about me, today, at age 42.

These changing years

They add to your confusion

Oh and you need to hear the time

That told the truth

That there is something about you

Baby so right

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