The birthday with the underwear and the bowls of puke.

So yesterday was my birthday and you may have noticed that I neglected to post. No it wasn't because I was having such an incredible time I couldn't make it to the computer. It certainly wasn't because I was passed out drunk on the couch after a night of debauchery. Although I was passed out on the couch it was simply because I was exhausted and, you know, I'm old now. I guess the days of me making it past 10:30 PM are long gone.

So how was my birthday? Well thanks for asking. Well I awoke to the news that Abby had thrown up a couple of times that morning, but she appeared to be fine. She wasn't complaining about feeling unwell nor did she look under the weather. So I fed her breakfast and that went fine. She asked to get dressed and go out to play, but she wanted to take her "bowl" outside just in case.

While I was beginning to get everyone organized to enjoy the beautiful day I got a phone call from Grandma Linda who wanted to know if I had time to go shopping this morning. Shopping? Sure I can make time for shopping. Especially birthday shopping, but wait, there's an embarrassing and awkward hook. Let me interrupt myself for a moment to set this up.

Faithful readers are well aware that my beloved washing machine, Kenny, has suffered an unfortunate demise. He was much much to young. May he rest in peace. While we have been patiently awaiting the arrival of Kenny's replacement Dad and Linda have graciously been doing all of our laundry. We give it to them dirty and it comes back to us washed, dried and folded the next day. Yeah, it's a sweet set up alright if I put my fingers in my ears, humm and rock back and forth, all in an effort to block out the thought of my in-laws washing my unmentionables.

So, back to yesterday, Grandma Linda is on the phone wanting to take me shopping because she's noticed that I obviously need new *underwear* and *bras*! ACK! Umm what's worse than double ACK?! Cause that too. I, briefly, wondered if it would be considered rude if I hung up the phone and made like she hadn't called at all.

Okay, here's the thing, yes I was well aware that I needed to purchase new dainties. And yes, I am in Wal-Mart a minimum of once per week. And yes, I am gainfully employed with the means of purchasing said foundation garments myself. So where did the break down occur? I'm not sure, but I'm thinking a combination of extreme apathy in regards to under garment shopping and the fact that Wal-Mart has a multitude of items that I am actually interested in purchasing. Also I'm going out on a limb and laying 85% of the blame strictly with my Mother who really dropped the "buying me underwear and bras" ball this Christmas.

Okay so off Grandma Linda and I go shopping. We exchanged some nervous giggles and the worst/most embarrassing part seemed to be over. Oh, but silly me getting ahead of myself again because we weren't very far down the road when;

Grandma Linda: blah blah blah... so Brian said to me, "you have to take Shannon shopping for new underwear and bras"..... blah blah blah.

I'm not really sure what she said before or after that because I may have actually died from embarrassment. Well, clearly, I didn't die, but I most certainly blacked out. Because HELLO! Mike's Dad talked about my underwear?! My father-in-law had enough knowledge about my unmentionables that he was able to form an opinion about them. I think at that point I was silently wishing for a paper bag to hyperventilate into. I also actually considered opening the car door and barrel rolling out into the ditch. I mean it looks easy when you see it on TV. Unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you look at it I was stricken with temporary paralysis brought on by acute embarrassment. So I managed to suck it up and got through the shopping trip.

Got home, hoping for some quiet recovery time before our guests arrived later that evening to find that Abby had been over to the neighbour's to play and now she and the neighbour's kids were playing in our yard. By all appearances she seemed fine and over whatever had bothered her stomach that morning. I was in the middle of breathing a sigh of relief when I notice my neighbour approaching. "Hi!" she called out, "do you have a sick kid over here?" I quickly explained that while Abby had been sick when she woke up she was fine after breakfast and seemed fine now. "Well", she whispered, "I have a bowl of puke in my living room." Somebody should of had a camera on my because I'm sure the look on my face was just priceless. The whole morning had been such the perfect set up that I contemplated calling for Ashton Kutcher to come on out and let me know I was being Punk'd already. So as it turns out Abby had gone over to play with bowl in tow, quietly thrown up into it and then left it on their coffee table and came back home without ever saying a word to anyone. When my neighbour brought the *clean* bowl back over a few minutes later I thanked her profusely and apologized a little bit more profusely and then headed into the house to try and pinpoint where the day had begun to go wrong.

For the rest of the day whatever passed Abby's lips came right back up a short time later. She was amazing, though. She never once complained or cried. She didn't eat very much, but she did drink tons of water, willingly, even though she knew it would make her sick. She sent herself to bed for a nap. She was the perfect patient.



At one point, quite late in the evening she looked at me and suggested that we should cancel my birthday "party". Which we had already done, but we had a little bit of fun with the girls anyway.





Much later in the evening when Abby had drifted off while laying across her father, I picked her up, cradling her in my arms like I used to when she was a baby. Of course back then she didn't weigh 40+ pounds. My intention was to carry her up to her bed so Mike and I could enjoy the birthday cake he'd made me. Yeah, that's right my man got his cook on. So I get to the bottom of the stair and realize I can't turn on the light with Abby sleeping in my arms. So I whisper to Mike, asking him to come and turn the light on. Instantly Abby's arm extends, "It's okay, Mommy. I can reach it." Little turkey wasn't asleep at all. Just needed a little babying I guess. And who doesn't need a little Mommy-love sometimes? Whether it's for a little snuggle when we're sick or making sure we have new underwear.

More pictures from this weekend here.