Although I know I was born 29 years ago today at 12:58 in the morning at six pounds and some odd ounces to a couple of crackhead nutsos, the Army likes to argue otherwise. They insist that I was born on October 28th rather than the 25th and since I like the number 28 much better than I like the number 25, I have allowed them to continue insisting on this ridiculous idea at the very least, in print.
Dean says he has no idea how in the hell they came to decide that my birthday was on a day that is not my birthday but I have a sneaking suspicion that it is because he told them the wrong day many, many years ago when he first joined. You wouldn’t think that it’s a very big deal to have such a minor error in your files and on your paperwork but it is in the military for some reason. We get asked our birthdays to verify who we are an awful lot and it has been problematic in the past when I was dumb enough to actually try to correct them.
During my surgery at the beginning of the year was one of those times when my birthday misprint almost screwed things up in a bad way. There I was lying in the pre-op room surrounded by doctors with an i.v. in and I was about to be wheeled into the operating room when an administrator entered and asked me to verify my birthday.
October 25th, 1978, I said.
This was met by confusion from the lady and then a very unexpected flurry of panic as she suddenly declared that I couldn’t have my surgery because my paperwork was all wrong. We ended up delayed for about an hour or so as my doctors argued with administrators that we couldn’t reschedule or wait because this was an emergency situation and that they had to break hospital protocol just this one time. I learned a very valuable lesson and ever since when I am asked to verify my birthday for someone I immediately reply:
October 28th, 1978
and all goes smoothly. These people have my birth certificate so I don’t understand why the hell they don’t just fix the error. I finally told Dean that I’ll just go and have my birthday changed on my birth certificate as well. After all, I’ve already changed my name… why not the birthday as well?
Today was going to be one day and then it became another. Owen is on a field trip right now to a pumpkin patch and we were originally going to go with him and take Olivia and Emi since Matt is in school. I was excited about spending my birthday shrouded in autumn fun like hay rides and mud and pumpkin patches but a problem came up and we didn’t get to go and I’m sad.
Today, is parent/teacher conferences and Matt is on a half day and gets home at 11:45 today instead of 2:45. Our conference with his teacher is at 3 something. This was no issue until we found out yesterday that it is an hours drive to the pumpkin patch and that we’d leave at 9:30 and then get there at 10:30 and if we had to be back by 11:30, then we’d be leaving the minute we got there. So, there was no point in going and I’m bummed out.
Instead, I’m going to spend the day in bed reading, The Milkman, a novel by my good friend, Ian and I’m so excited that I could pee my pants. Then, this afternoon, I’m going to do a test run on Matthew for Halloween. I think I should paint up his Darth Maul face so that I can time myself to see how long it will take so that on Halloween day, I know when to start it. I might also go on the hunt for black boots for the boy. It’s amazing how expensive black boots are.
This morning, I woke up and no one is here. I have an email from Dean in my inbox and it is just the loveliest of love letters, a few lengthy paragraphs on how much he adores me. He signs it and then adds a p.s. to it:
“p.s. I am going to clean the entire house for you today so DON’T lift a finger!”
I hit reply and wrote him back:
“you had me at “clean house”…. you should know by now that when you write things like, “don’t lift a finger” that I get extremely aroused….”
Thinking about it, it’s almost amusing just how true that is. Prior to having kids and responsibilities maybe I would have enjoyed a dinner out or a gift wrapped in shiny paper with a big fucking bow on it. Now, four kids later, I just want my fucking van cleaned out and my laundry put away. Maybe a day to lie in bed and read or watch a Law and Order marathon.
Speaking of television, I have decided to come clean about some of the sort of weird shit I love to watch that I rarely admit to. Of course, I adore my crime dramas, but I also have a weak spot for some other shows that are not quite so thought provoking. Here is a short list of my guilty television pleasures:
1. America’s Next Top Model
2. Project Runway
3. Tori and Dean: Inn Love
4. The Tyra Banks Show
5. Dr. Steve-o
Man, do I ever love that shit for some reason.
Anyways… that’s all I got today.