My kids clearly got the whining gene from me

By all rights, yesterday should have been a lousy birthday. My children, already exhausted and cranky from a day of loud construction work, reached the breaking point by mid-afternoon and very nearly took me down with them. As I drove aimlessly around town trying to give them a quiet place to sleep while my bladder screamed a silent protest against this plan, I felt pretty darn cranky myself. "Not really the way I wanted to celebrate a birthday," I kept muttering under my breath as I mentally composed long, self-pitying blog entries that I knew I'd never have time to write.

A few hours later, I was in the car again, this time on my way out for the evening. And as I drove, I realized how ridiculously whiny and self-pitying I'd been earlier in the day. No, it wasn't my dream day, not as I might have envisioned it, anyway. But my phone rang off the hook all day as old friends and new called to wish me a happy day. My children surprised me with beautiful handmade cards, my husband with gorgeous flowers, a Coach wallet and a Coldstone Creamery cake. I spent the late afternoon in the company of wonderful friends and I met another 10 friends out for Mexican food, margaritas and many, many laughs that night. It was a long day. But all day long, there were reminders of how many terrific people I have in my life. I had a whole lot of company to go with my misery. And I know in my heart that I'm damn lucky to have that.

So there was a little sawdust in my house. So the noise was deafening and my kids were cranky. So damn what? I had a great birthday. I should be so lucky as to have many more just like it. I hope I'll always be able to recognize them when they come along.