I'm How Old??!!

So today is my 34th birthday. And I just realized at this very moment that half of 34 is 17, my birthday is the 17th. . . . . and I just like it when numbers jive like that. : )
I also recall that 17 years ago I was celebrating my "golden" birthday - you know, where you turn the age of your birthdate. I was a Senior in high school. WOW. That really was a long time ago! If someone back then were to have told me what my life was going to be like for the next 17 years, I never would have believed it. I mean, even though I never left Bakersfield, I have still had a pretty cool life and there are no signs that this cool life I'm living is going to ever stop. So I think that's pretty awesome.
But anyways, I wanted to tell you all about how my birthday went today. It started around 6:00 this morning, when Noah woke up. He probably would have gone back to sleep, but Dylan had crawled into bed with me at 5:00am, so he was sleeping soundly and I didn't want Noah to wake him up. (Yes, Noah is almost a year old and still in our bedroom, but thank goodness he is out of our bed!)
OK, so around 8:00 I decide to take a shower and get ready for the day with my boys. So I close them up in the bedroom with me while I sneak in a shower. They can watch some Playhouse Disney while Mommy shaves her legs. That's all I want. To shower, wash my hair and shave my legs. Smooth legs and armpits are one of my few pleasures, OK? Not 1 minute into the shower, and here comes Noah, crawling to the shower door, crying all the way. I call out to him to let him know that Mommy is here, it's OK, don't cry, I'll be out in a minute. . . . like he really understands any of it.
Well, being able to hear and not see me only makes it worse for him. He then pulls himself up to a standing position on the shower door. Still crying, by the way. Only now he has put his little face up to the shower door and starts crying harder. The shower glass is rainglass, so it's sort of distorted and frosted and you can't really see much. But when your toddler puts his face right up to it, mouth open and screaming, you can see pretty good. This just makes me laugh. I start singing out loud, "Happy Birthday to Me" with Noah's screams supplying backup vocals. So this torment goes on for about 10 minutes, because I am determined to have a good, stress-free day and I'm going to do it with clean hair and shaved legs damnit!
Finally, I shut the water off and attempt to get out, only Noah is blocking my way. By then, Dylan has rounded the corner to see what all the fuss is about and to let me know that "it's too loud" and he "can't hear Tigger & Pooh." (Isn't that just like a three year old? It's all about them. Hmm.. I have NO IDEA where he gets that from!) So now I'm standing in my bathroom naked with a towel around my head, with my two boys staring at me. Noah takes one look at me, realizes that I am no longer just a disembodied voice, and stops crying immediately. He gives me his best toothy smile and crawls back into the bedroom. Dylan follows.
The rest of the day progresses smoothly and my day gets even better when Daddy walks in the door. Seeing my hubby always brightens my day. After Daddy gets home, we all head to BJ's for some pizza and Pazookie for my birthday. Well, you would think that after a good long nap for both of them, that Dylan and Noah would be happy, well-rested and hungry. Um, NO. Noah was whiny and needy, Dylan was difficult and mouthy. So, once again I am determined that my birthday will be stress-free. The best cure for whiny kids? BOOZE. : ) I enjoyed a lovely little cocktail called Tequila Mockingbird. Actually I enjoyed two. I haven't been able to tie one on for some time, so it doesn't take much these days to make me feel loopy. My dinner was blah, so they took it off our bill. Yeah! Free dinner! Free Pazookie!
So as fast as we can, we finish our meal, grab the boys and head home. I notice that Dylan has had a runny nose all through dinner. Ugh, great. Probably getting sick again from all those germs floating around his preschool. It shouldn't be called preschool. It should be called Pukeycankersoresnottycoughphlegmschool.
Once we're in the truck headed home, things calm down. I'm basking in my warm fuzzy stupor, chatting with Darren, and all is well. Until - the vomit. As we are rounding the corner to our home, Darren and I hear a sound come from the back seat that is undeniably the sound of stomach contents being emptied out. We look at one another, then to the back seat. Dylan is sitting there in his vomit, calm and casual. It seemed he decided to stick his fingers down his throat just a little too far. Good lesson for him. That should teach him not to do that anymore! (Note: Dylan appreas to be fine, with no sign of a runny nose.)

So folks, that was my birthday, from beginning to end. It started with Screaming Noah and ended with Pukey Dylan. And this is exactly what I mean about my life being so cool! I have this hilarous story to tell because I have this awesome man in my life who gave me these two wonderful boys. Never a dull moment in a house full of boys. I can't wait to see what next year will bring.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!