39 (again)

Last weekend we celebrated my birthday. My big birthday. I am now 4 decades old. Friday night, we went to my favorite local Mexican joint.

I dined on my favorite foods — nacho chips and margaritas.

From the looks of my youngest, you’d think he was the one sipping margaritas.

Saturday night was a big party at my friend Kim’s house. Both Kim and I have birthdays near each other albeit several days and years apart. She has an Octoberfest party each year and we use is loosely as a birthday celebration.

John actually wore lederhosen and I foolishly forgot to photograph him. We drank beer and ate brats and pretzels while the kids jumped themselves silly on a trampoline.

Sunday dawned and I woke up to the fact that I was a year older. I was served breakfast in bed by my children. They helped eat it, too. Oli was particularly interested in eating the icing off my cake. I spent the afternoon at the art museum with the children as John left for a business trip. When we arrived home, I had this waiting for me:

Flowers from my older brother and his wife. My wonderful brother who will always reach these milestone birthdays before me. And always be older. Older than me. Am I rubbing it in enough, George? The flowers made my day and they are still as gorgeous (or is that georgeous) today as they were when delivered.

My day ended with my friends Jenn and Laura (who shares my same day and year of birth) coming over with a bottle of champagne and a load of chocolate.

Overall, forty isn’t such a bad deal. But how could it be with so many great people in my life? Champagne, margaritas, chocolate and flowers only further sweeten the deal.

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