Hey, it's my birthday! Today at 3:29 PM, I get one year closer to officially being old. ("Old" is 30, for those trying to do the math.)
As the husband doesn't really care much about birthdays, I don't expect much out of this one. It's already starting out lame: no "happy birthday" from B when he kissed me on his way out of bed this morning, B has class tonight, so I probably won't see him, no cake, no presents (though I'm considering busting into my CDP stash just so I have something to open...how sad is that?), and the quiet alone time I was hoping for when I woke up way before the alarm went off was ruined when W woke up the second I stepped out my bedroom door and has been replaced by the sounds of Elmo's Christmas/Holiday Special and a preschooler jabbering at the the goings on on the TV (at least I caught him before his yelling woke up R. I don't get why that kid can't wake up quietly, like normal people).
Birthday joy is one of the many things depression (or children, or life, or age and maturity, or something) has sapped from me over the past several years. The birthday just isn't as fun as it used to be. I kinda hate that (see, generally, "Ugh! Why can't I just be happy???").
Anyway, my extra morning time is gone, so I'll quit whining. Time to face the day. I hope you have a happy one!