Well as previously noted in a previous post, this weekend was Taylor's birthday!
It all started in the morning when we woke up. Then I asked him what he wanted for breakfast and he said he would just have oatmeal. And I was all like, "uhhh that's pretty sick." So then I threw on sweat pants, some faux Ugg boots that I really only wear for grocery occasions such as these, (and also because it's still snowing outside. and remember how it's April and I'm really mad about it?) and then threw on the staple in my closet -- my gray sweater that is at least 12-years-old and went to Albertson's where I gathered the goods for a deliciously fruity smoothie (we're really into smoothies these days). I came home, blended, and presented presents which consisted of a cast iron skillet, (at least once a day for the past month he's mentioned how he needs one) a birthday card about hot dogs, and a belt. Really exciting, I know, but boys are the hardest to shop for! Especially this one. But he did mention how he wanted to carry the skillet around with him all day like kids do when they receive gifts, so I feel like all in all, it was on the successful side of things.
He was off to work and then shortly after I joined him there, because oh did I forget to mention that I have a JOB?! With the company that he works for, and as a writer. It's not quite a full-time thang but let me tell you that happiness was had by all when that news came to pass...A job...I have a real life job people.
Anyway, I showed up to work, did boring/exciting getting hired stuff and then went to the company kitchen to get Taylor a treat, because the kitchen there is like a child's (and Taylor's) dream come true. It's always stocked with Nutty bars, fruit snacks, individual packs of Pringles, (for those always on the go) and most importantly, Zebra Cakes! Who even knew those things still even existed? And that is what he wanted, a Zebra Cake. So I went to the kitchen, pulled them out of their package, put them on a plate, stuck a candle in each one, and walah, Happy Birthday! (and we both knew that was the only kind of cake he would be getting. I'm really the best kind of wife.)
|Just as you imagined it would be I'm sure.|
Later we went to to a dinner that was delicious and overpriced just as a good birthday dinner should be. Then he tried paying when the bill came. I was all "umm what do you think you you're doing?" And he was like, "you're not paying for this." And I was all, "Babe, remember how we're married? This is basically your money that I'm spending." But as we all know, it's the principle of the thing.
And then the next day we went to Billings for a temple trip and to spend some time with my sister, her husband, and their babes who I've been yearning to see. However, her kids didn't seem to remember who we were for the first good half hour.
So in an attempt to jog their memory, we took them to McDonald's while my sister and her husband attended the Holy place. But once at McDonald land, they wouldn't talk to us, look at us, or even eat the food we offered. They just sat there looking at everything and everyone else but us. Brielle forgot that Uncle Taylor is her favorite, and Kenzie forgot that she at least sometimes likes me. But Emmy being only a few months old, well she had no say in the situation so she was my crutch. About half way through breakfast, an old guy walked by, looked at Taylor and said, "Looks like you've been busy." We laughed and were all, "yeahhh." Because well, you never correct someone when they assume that other people's children are your own because being a pretend parent is really fun. You just hope that they don't start crying for their mommy while you're holding them.
Which reminds me of this one time when I was at Walmart and I had just eaten obscene amounts of food and when I do that my stomach explodes and if I push it out even a little bit, it looks like I'm with child. I was there with my friend and while at the checkout, not thinking that anyone was paying attention to me I said to my friend, "Look, I"m four months pregnant," while rubbing my belly like all pregnant women tend to do. But really, if I was four months pregnant, I doubt that that would be the way I would announce it to my best friend. But the checkout lady looked at me, then looked down at my protruding stomach, smiled, lip smacked, aww'd, and asked if it was my first. I was like, "yeeeep, it sure is," while smiling and continuing to rub my childless, food baby. Because to correct her would have made it weird for all parties involved. But then she wouldn't take her eyes off my stomach! And for one thing it was getting pretty awkward, but for another it was getting really hard to keep my stomach pushed out, because if it suddenly went concave it would make the woman feel weird and it would also make me the weirdest kind of liar.
So the moral of the story, don't ever say you're pregnant if you're not.
But later, Taylor and I took those lovely little children to the park and it was there that they remembered how much they really do love us. And I mean look at those faces!
That is until one of the children (she who will remain nameless) hit me in the face with something (just as all children do at various points in their life) and when I took that something away from her, she cried until her parent's came to her rescue.
Just being ushered into parenthood one visit at a time.
I really, really love those babes.