I had a fabulous birthday that began with Georgia singing Happy Birthday very beautifully and very off-key while she was sitting on the toilet. Then, at her rather inspired suggestion we all wore party hats leftover from her birthday while we had breakfast together. A little later my mom picked me up and we went to the spa (facial for me, massage for her – today is her birthday! Happy Birthday mummy!! I love you!) followed by a lovely lunch complete with laughter, tears, and really nice chablis.
My e-mail inbox was full of birthday wishes and I received calls from several different time zones, including various birthday serenades (in both official languages – impressive!) After a nap and a hot bath, my husband and Georgia came home – she carrying a big bunch of bright orange flowers, and he bringing me gorgeous lingerie & champagne (which, I think we can all agree, go extremely well together.)
This husband of mine. He still manages to find me attractive and make me feel beautiful even after I lost all my hair, grew back someone else’s, had a large port implanted in my chest (it looks like I lost a coat button under my skin) and got all carved up and scarred. The fact that he brings me lingerie makes me want to cry with gratitude: it means he doesn’t see the cancer first — he sees me as a woman first – a whole, and hopefully totally foxy, woman.
But instead of crying with gratitude I jumped up and down like a hopped-up jack russell terrier and kissed him about 100 times. Then I played with Georgia while he cooked me dinner and we drank champagne.
Totally dreamy birthday. Keep ’em coming, I say.