Today is my eldest child’s birthday. He is two little ducks (or 22 for those not familiar bingo calling number lingo).
I have been ill for nearly two weeks now (stress effects strike again me thinks). An ear infection that even antibiotics is not shifting. I am battling on, but I feel and sound shocking. My dear daughter (she’s seven) took pity on me and helped me shop for birthday treats, make banners, blow up balloons and decorate the house. She made a banner all by herself. It’s so sweet. Chalk writing. Cute pictures. And lots of gold stars. Her brother was so touched.
We’ve had a lovely morning: me, all my babies and his partner. Relaxed. Happy. Enjoying being together.
I made American style pancakes for brunch. Served with a choice of toppings. We googled the ‘Elvis’ pancake – peanut butter, banana, bacon and honey (or maple syrup if you prefer) – and gave it a whirl. It was an interesting combo.
I’m now in the bath. Trying to rejuvenate my poorly body, before heading off to meet a potential new solicitor at 4.30 (feel awful having to do it today, but their diary is chocker and I’m desperate to get things progressing: my current solicitor is not moving things forward quickly enough).
Then, tonight I’m treating the troops to a posh meal out at one of their favourite restaurants (nice these things are a treat now, given before the bomb we’d eat out a few times a week).
It’s such a different day to last year. As I said in my post If… I felt incredibly sad. I struggled writing the card and gift tags signing from mum. Seeing him open his gifts made me feel sad. As did blowing his candles out. I was sad Ex wasn’t here, sharing in our son’s special day.
Today, I have contemplated, obviously (otherwise I wouldn’t be writing this). But I no longer feel sad. And my son is happy his dad isn’t here – they really don’t get on terribly well – I never factored his take on things on my assessment of the situation last year. His father hasn’t sent a card or gift. He’s not even tried to contact him (there’s still time, I hope he redeems himself because missing your child’s birthday is awful behaviour).
Times do change. Often the stress of all this obscures just how positive and good the changes can be. I am glad I’m seeing the good today.
Happy birthday to my darling boy. And a happy day it is indeed.