Today is my birthday. It's 11:29 AM and I am sipping a coffee with Bailey's in it.
This day is already a major, major success: I woke up early and happy and free of random aches and pains. I made coffee, took a shower and found beautiful, hand-made jewelry from Ruby strewn across my pillow.
Lincoln, new haircut and all, RAN into school holding my left hand in his and clutching a note pad and pencil with his other, delicate, strong and glorious appendage.
PJ looked me in the eyes while we waited for the bus as I held her elfin cheeks and told her she was my best present every single day. I love you, mama. She said. Yes, girl. Yes, indeed. I love you, too.
Tonight I get wined and dined and very likely exquisitely laid by my incredible husband.
My belly flabbs and my eyes do puff. My vision sucks and my chin hairs rage. But today? I couldn't care less. It's probably the Bailey's, but I don't care about that either.