Today was my husband's birthday, and between you and me, it kind of sucked. But I swear, it wasn't my fault. I did my part. I had the boys make "Happy Birthday!" posters for their daddy. I wrapped up (good) gifts, I made a cake (from scratch), I offered to get a sitter for the night, which he declined. We got pizza from one of his favorite restaurants and attempted a nice family dinner, but really it was all a bust.
Why? Rose Bowl hangover that's why. On January 1st my husband decided to forgo our usual New Year's tradition of preparing a delicious Greek meal for friends, and hopped on a plane to join two of his best buddies from college in watching their beloved Badgers in the big game. While I was a bit disappointed to miss out on the all the feta cheese and Kapama, I understood that this was an awesome opportunity. But I knew what the consequences would be. I knew that the amazing time (of over indulgence) with his former frat brothers on January 1 would result in a fairly miserable January 2nd. Which it did.
He arrived home at about 10:30 this morning. I could tell by the look on his face...this wasn't going to be a high-energy day. (I told you so, I thought but did not say out loud.) The boys wanted him to open up his birthday gifts right away, he dutifully obliged. After opening up his brand new Ipad he looked about as excited as if I had purchased him a Low-Fat Vegan cook book. I'm sure he liked it, but he was just too tired to show it.
We then decided to take the boys to the Chabot Science Museum. It was okay, except that Evan kept insisting on taking off his shirt and shoes, and Zachary was generally cranky. Daddy actually started to nod off during the Astronaut movie, which for some reason scared the socks of Mr. Z. Go figure.
This evening after spending a fortune on the beloved Zachary's Pizza, the boys refused to eat, or even sit at the table with their father for his birthday dinner. Evan started demanding cake and Zack started throwing things. He ended up in time out and I, nearly in tears. This isn't how it is suppose to go...right? The applesauce-spice cake with cream cheese frosting was okay at best, but rather dry, leaving me to believe that I should have just used a mix.
The boys "went to bed" at 7:45, and the husband is close to passing out.
So there you have it, my husband's birthday. If it were my birthday, I'd want a rain check. But birthday's aren't a big deal to everyone, my husband included. He had a blast with his friends at the game, and I believe that he is comfortable with the consequences, so who am I to question it?
Happy birthday sweetie, now go to bed!