My birthday is on Monday. I am turning twenty-five. I think this means that I am officially an adult, and the reason I think that is because, officially, this birthday is going to suck rocks. From what I’ve been told, this is a common issue with grown up birthdays.

I tried to make it so this birthday would be fun. I talked Chris into taking leave so he would have my birthday off and we could go do something special. I have a good friend who says she’ll watch the kids for awhile that day. However, Chris just reassigned to the night shift, which will begin Monday night. This means that these last couple of days of leave are pretty much going to be Chris sleeping all day to adjust his sleep schedule. My birthday is the last day of leave. Now we should have four or five good evening hours, right? But Chris’ FCC training class got booted from Tuesday to Monday, so the few hours of consciousness he will have on my birthday will be spent in school. On top of this unfortunate scheduling, I’m fairly broke as well. The children have growth spurted AGAIN! And I’m trying to get ready for the holidays so I’ve bought a few small gifts ahead of time, and I’m now too broke to take myself on a shopping spree and buy myself the crazy pajamas I want. ( I know, I’m weird. I’m the kind of person who is thrilled to get stuff like pajamas and socks as gifts.) I could bake myself a cake, but that’s just pitiful, you know? Instead, I ate three cupcakes at a crop last night. At least I’ve had my frosting fix.

So my birthday. It will be just like every other day. I think I will still have my friend watch the rug rats in the morning and I will play in my scrapbooking room for awhile. That will be nice. And nice is ok. I can be content with nice and ok, because I’m a grown up. Right?