It's Official in Wisconsin, Anyway

I was born forty years ago in Wisconsin. My brother was just sixteen months old at the time.

My mother, who was almost twenty-two when I was born, explains that my dad dropped her off at the hospital, intending to come back after he turned on the radio station where he worked at the time. When he telephoned the hospital later, he was told he had a daughter.

That's pretty much all I know. My parents had another child sixteen months later, and I grew up as the Middle Child, and we all know what that means. None of the privileges of being the oldest, none of the coddling heaped upon the youngest. I was Mother's Helper, eager to be useful and good and responsible, probably trying to make up for being neglected as the middle child.

I was also bald for a good portion of my toddlerhood.

And how will I celebrate my induction into middle age? Here are my exciting plans for my birthday:

8:00 a.m.: Greet DaycareKid.
8:45 a.m.: Send off YoungestBoy to school.
9:00 a.m.: Start school with boys. Spelling and music.
9:15 a.m.: Wonder why maid hasn't arrived to scrub floor and clean bathrooms.

9:17 a.m.: Remember we have no maid.

9:45 a.m.: Take care of two month old baby for one-hour.
12:20 a.m.: Welcome YoungestBoy home from school (early dismissal).
1:00 p.m.: Leave children in care of husband and get driver's license.

3:00 p.m.: Try to convince Babygirl to keep her clothes on.

3:30 p.m.: Get plastic surgery to fix eyelids.

4:00 p.m.: Find babysitter for Friday and Saturday nights.

4:30 p.m.: Send DaycareKid home with his mom.
5:00 p.m.: Bake pizza and eat pizza and cake for dinner.

9:00 p.m.: Inform husband I'm going to see "Sideways" with or without him.

Yes. As you can see, I'm a party animal. Maybe when I turn fifty, I'll get fireworks.

(My grown-up birthday dinner will be Saturday night, after I get my hair cut on Saturday morning. I insisted.)

So, don your party hats! Get out your noise-maker! Blow out forty candles! Eat cake and sing out loud! Celebrate my birthday! (Just don't tell anyone here because I'd die from embarrassment if anyone made an actual fuss in real life or if the waiters in the restaurant actually drew attention to my saggy eyelidded face.) In the meantime, if you see me (look! I finally posted a current picture below), please wish me happy birthday and slip me a twenty-dollar bill.




Signed,
The Birthday Girl