34

On Thursday I'm going to be 34 (so get those cards in the mail!) "When my mom was 34, I was 9," I told Jon. "I remember she seemed so old to me." Then I turned to Zephyr. "Do I seem old to you?" "No, you seem new!" his response earned him far more kisses than any 3 1/2 year old wants.

*Note to my mom- you don't seem old to me anymore!*

You probably know that around here we celebrate "birthmonths." Why have a mere one day of specialness when you can spread it out over 31? Why settle for one cake instead of cake every day? It's not only beneficial for the birthmonth honoree, but also for honorers. There's too much pressure on trying to make one day perfect. Who knows what the 25th might hold- I might end up pinned under a sniffly child trying to drink their weight in breastmilk. Never fear- there will still be six days remaining of my birthmonth to make up for lost time.

This weekend, Jon has been giving me my dream gift- time. He has been on kid-duty pretty much nonstop, allowing me to "run wild and free." What images come to your mind? Margaritas at the club? Marathon shopping sessions? Hours at the spa? I guess it's been a little less glamorous than that. For instance, two sample conversations from the past 24 hours follow:
(Jon's cleaning up from dinner. The kids are playing in the kitchen.)
N: I'd like to go fold the laundry now.
J: (In the tone of an indignant father) Fold the laundry?!?! Have you done your chores?

N: I'm going to make the dough for the bread now. (Becomes distracted by the sound of the washing machine clicking off.)
N: (Walking through room 15 minutes later, after hanging the clothes on the clothesline.) Okay, I'm done messing around. Now I'll really go make the dough.

If you had told me ten years ago- even five years ago, that all I would want for my 34th birthday was time to cook and clean, well, I would have found that pretty unlikely. But perhaps if you're a mother of small children, you understand. For instance, a few weeks ago we took dinner to our friend Jessica's house while her husband was away for a few weeks. Jon and I packed all four children into strollers for an after-dinner walk to give Jessica some time to herself. "I think I'll clean up the kitchen, then jog until I meet up with you," she told us as we set off. For a minute I second-guessed her choice of activities- until I remembered the last time I cleaned up my kitchen all by myself, no children underfoot, singing along to the Indigo Girls. Ah, serenity.

So Jon has the kids out for a walk now, and after I finish this blog, my exciting plans include hanging more clothes on the line, preparing for Tuesday's class, and probably eating the last piece of chocolate-chip-banana cake.

But before I sign off, I have a few random Zephyr quips that I want to record for posterity. Last night, we were doing our usual bedtime routine of listing all the things we're thankful for. Zephyr started out with his usual list, "I'm thankful for Mommy, Dada, Zephyr, and Jubi..." and then he continued, "and Jubi's eye, and her other one, and her nose, and the holes in her nose."

Then the other day, he started asking questions about God, including, "What's God's last name?" We told him we didn't know. "I know what it is," Zephyr stated, definitively. "God's last name is Froghopper."