“A diplomat is a man who always remembers a woman’s birthday
but never remembers her age.”
Today is my birthday. You can remember my age but just do not remind me of the number. I have mixed feelings about saying the number out loud. Samantha wants the world to know that she will be 8 on the 14th. I on the other hand only want cards and gifts. Yes, I still like the special attention a birthday brings; it is just that the number is both scary and validating.
The first picture of me that I know of, is the only one with both of my parents by myself that I think exists.
I am a Sunday girl. I was born on a Sunday, and married on a Sunday. This year my birthday falls on a Sunday. We will celebrate by going out for a noon meal with our daughter and family. Hannah will also celebrate her April birthday. I suspect she likes getting her gifts a week early. The gals in the family plan to shop after we eat.
My Mom once told me that she thought I was the prettiest little thing. My three month old picture shows a very bald baby that I find rather unlovely. I will not be posting that photo. Later on I got blond curly hair and pretty was not an out of bounds description.
I have not forgotten Malissa is our other April celebration. As she was born on her due date of the 30th we will wait until then to celebrate with her. Sam and family will be in Thailand on her special day. We have sent her Dad home with videos and books for her and the singing princess card has arrived. Our year two student is getting tall and growing up all too quickly.