Category Archives: Birthdays

A Birthday ‘Surprise’

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There are no secrets in this household.  Nothing.  Yes, we do trust each other and talk about everything but the primary reason is that my husband is just not capable of keeping a secret.  The pressure gets to him and he tells me everything.  Case in point:  It is the eve of my birthday and, oddly, I arrived home before my husband.  Guessing that he may have made a last minute birthday stop, I decided not to comment when he walked in the door at 6.  About 20 minutes later we were discussing the weather (aren’t we interesting?) and Shawn mentioned that the thermometer at Corinth Square (a shopping center that is nearby but definitely not on his normal route home) read 107 degrees.

Ashley: “Oh?  What were you doing at Corinth Square?”
Shawn (long pause): “Um, I don’t remember.”
Ashley (trying to change the subject): “By the way, remember that you were going to buy a trash barrel for the garage (wow! Thrilling conversations at the Campbell household). “
Shawn:  “Yeah, that’s what I did. I went to buy a trash barrel.”
Ashley (not pointing out the fact that he didn’t come home with a new trash barrel): “Shawn, did you just give uncover yourself?”
Shawn: “No.” [long pause] “And even if I did happen to go there, they didn’t have what I was looking for.”

Later in the evening…
A: “Why do you have glitter all over your face?”
S [very matter of fact]: “Well, sometimes I get stuff on my hands and then I put it on my face.”

Even later in the evening, on the patio of a restaurant in Corinth Square…
S:  “Can I tell you about your birthday card?
A: “No.”
S: “Well, I really want to tell you about it.”
A: “I don’t want to hear about it, it’s not my birthday.”
S: “I just think you should know that it’s not a lovey-dovey card….and it’s not pretty either.”
A: “Great, I’m really looking forward to this card.”
S: “But it does have glitter!  And it’s funny.”
A [looking around the shopping center]: “I don’t see any place to buy a card here.”
S: “Of course there is a place to buy a card, CVS.”
A: “You went shopping for my birthday present at a drugstore!!”

When we get home…
S: “Can I please just give you your card now, even though I haven’t written anything in it and it isn’t signed?”
A: “No, it is not my birthday and you must sign the card before you give it to me” [I will pause here to let everyone know that I received a blank card in my Christmas stocking. No signature. Not even an envelope. He said that he liked what was already printed on it.]
S: “Then give me your pen, I feel inspired.”

Just a couple moments later [coming from the other room]…
S: “How do you spell ‘aforementioned’?”
A [to myself]: Why would a birthday message include the word ‘aforementioned’?
 
10 minutes later…
S: “Here is your card. Open it” [the card is actually in an envelope this time with ‘Ashley C.’ written on the front]
A: “No, it’s not my birthday. Give it to me in the morning.”
S: “Ok, how about I put it somewhere where I know you will see it?”  [He opens the refrigerator door] “What do you think you will have for breakfast tomorrow?”
A: “Please do not put my card in the refrigerator; just leave it on the counter.”

Later that evening, when I went to close the garage door, I saw that he had hidden the card [it’s not like it a secret or anything] in the cabinet with my car keys.

I must say that when I opened the card this morning, it did not disappoint, all the way down to the glitter.  It was very funny and the handwritten message inside was very sweet.  And it was even signed ‘Shawn C.’ – you know, in case some other Shawn were to sneak inside my house and put a non-lovey-dovey, not pretty, but funny and covered with glitter card inside my cabinet.

He makes life fun.

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Of Birthdays and the Internet

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The Boy's Birthday

When the boy was born, I said and thought cheesy things, things I would like to blame on hormone surges but that more likely stem from my molten internal core of cheese.  One of those things was a promise — I promised to be his witness and to celebrate his days (please, don’t gag. It was the hormones).  My birthday induced madness, where I bake too much and decorate too much, is part of  keeping that promise.

The above is the photo rendition of  this year’s promise keeping. The boy turned five. It takes a lot to turn five: bugs, friends, cake, cupcakes, a pinata, pizza, antennas, etc. It took a lot to turn two, three and four, too.

Past Birthdays

In the midst of party preparations, the boy asked his father, “What are you doing?” His father replied through gritted teeth, “Giving you a wonderful experience.” For the husband, birthday work (blowing balloons, hanging pinatas, creating strange contraptions from pipe cleaners, etc.) takes 24-48 hours, while for me the birthday work begins with the wonders of the internet. This year, the boy wanted bugs, so I found the following inspirations to create the above.

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