Birthday Proof

Today is my birthday. I do not mention this in order to elicit lots of birthday wishes; believe me, my dear friends and family are pulling through for me on what could be a pretty gray day. (Fact: My birthday falls at the end of the ugliest month of the year, at least for us Midwesterners. Fact the Second: Often my birthday falls on the same day as the Super Bowl. Fact the Third: I am turning 29. Fact the Fourth: Today I am at home with four sick kids. Many potentially depressing facts to ponder.)

Anyway! I'm posting to offer proof that a) I exist, and b) I actually did a few things for my big day, since when you're a mom, you often get lost in the shuffle that is Life, and sometimes you're not at all bothered by this. But a birthday is a fun thing, especially during the ugliest month of the year.

Proof that The Professor, Master H (our parasite), and I went on a date out of town (!) this weekend, with secondary proof that I did the unthinkable and curled my hair:

I know some supercilious person will ask, so let me just nip it in the bud:
The car was turned off, and I was only holding him in the lap because
he had just finished having a meal. He rides in a car seat. Duh.

Also proof that my baby has bug eyes.

Proof that in addition to curling my hair, I also painted my nails. I haven't painted my nails in YEARS, and just to make the unthinkableness of this all complete, I chose a very non-traditional purple-gray color. Proof that I smile like a maniac and that the baby's bug eyes come naturally:

No proof that my husband was actually there.

Proof that this year, for my birthday dinner (celebrated last night), I forewent (I think this is a word) the traditional request of chili dogs and grew up about 23 years overnight by asking for quiche, salad, and fancy muffins. Proof that my mom is cute:

Proof that my husband, though absent for the day, is awesome at keeping the birthday spirit alive. He has pasted fun, goofy notes throughout the house outlining just what my day entails this year. So far I know I am getting my fully refurbished and WORKING Bernina serger later this week (HUGE YAYS HERE), as well as cold hard cash, lunch, and possibly other things? Proof that he is trying to kill me, as I found this note taped up in the shower:

Sufficiently freaking out exhausted, naked housewives: UR DOIN IT RITE.

So that's the proof I have, and now I must dash on this my big day, as the baby is also freaking out and none of us have brushed our teeth and I still have some lovely Starbucks coffee from the breakfast my daddy brought by this morning.

Happy normal late January day, everyone! It's a pretty great one.