When I turned 25 I vowed, only to myself, that I was going to excited or even ecstatic about turning the big 30. Yesterday that day came to be. It wasn't what I had hoped. No waking up to sunshine and flowers for me. No I woke up with a headache, two kids who could care less that it was my birthday and a husband who was so over my birthday 11 days before when he had thrown my surprise party that (I felt like) he could care less whether I had a good day or not. I was not a happy camper. They drank all the milk (in huge Tupperware bowls of cereal, in bed, munching away right next to me) so I couldn't even have tea. They had thrashed the house, and refused to pick up after themselves. Hubby got mad because I had put the empty carton of milk in the garbage and put the open bag of cereal away for the second time already then he couldn't find it when he went to get some for Hollywood. That was my breaking point. They made up for it when I broke down in tears. Hubby went to buy me coffee, hoping the caffeine would dull the throbbing headache (that I didn't even get from drinking shots of tequila damn it). Then I went Easter shopping all by myself. My BFF mailed in my present so it would be in my mailbox on my birthday then they took me to this scrumptious and overpriced restaurant, owned and ran by friends from Blondy's class, for dinner. I loved my pork tenderloin and creamy polenta dinner, the boys ate ALL of their unreadable overpriced pizza and Caesar salad(why don't they eat at places like LaComida or Applebees?), FFP was so-so about his steak dinner and said there wasn't enough on the plate. He had to sneak pieces off the boys plates to fill up. Although it didn't start out with the pampering and birthday wishes I had hoped for it ended perfect, with my boys, all of us happy and healthy and ready to face a new year and a new decade.