My actual birthday was in fact last Saturday. It was a good day! Hubby tricked me into taking Fraggle downstairs ahead of him in the morning, only for me to find several gifts scattered around the main floor, beautifully wrapped and tied to helium balloons. He also planned a lovely eat-in dinner. We shared delicious food and lovely conversation in our kitchen, sitting at Fraggle's tiny Ikea end table (aka our temporary dining table during renovations). Dinner was followed by the one true birthday necessity - Dairy Queen ice cream cake, with lots of cancer gel icing. And, most importantly, I DRANK WINE.
So, all in all, a pretty wicked day.
I wouldn't call the last week of Birthday month much to write home about, but I did eat plenty of junk food, visit with lovely new friends, and buy an "I'm not thirty" outfit for the big night tomorrow.
I'm am so looking forward to my dinner with friends. The best part is that I seem to have taught Fraggle how to take a bottle (!) so I'll be a little less worried about leaving her with my mom for the evening. A little.
If I'm bein honest, though, tomorrow is the really scary part. Tomorrow makes it real. You guys. I'm thirty. Fucking balls.