I had a birthday (not saying which one!) on August 30th!

The alarm went off at its usual time of 6:45am. My brain booted up and clawed its way toward consciousness, my ever-present task list already starting to scroll through my mind. I felt Matt roll out of bed, and a few seconds later heard the sound of something being pushed toward me on the mattress.

I opened an eye and saw Matt’s back as he scuttled out of the bedroom toward the kitchen. There was a card on the bed.

(He gave me the flower later, but I needed a vertical image to pair with the the other one, so you get to see it now, k?)

Inside, I was basically informed that I was taking the day off!! The funniest part was that the “allergist appointment” that he put on our shared Google calendar last week was actually an appointment for a couples massage and double pedicures!

I did what I was told and waited in bed for breakfast (but I did break the rules to take the Dew-baby out, cause he was whining for his morning potty break) A few minutes later I had this sitting in front of me.

French toast!   Please direct your attention to the left side of the tray.  The little pinch bowls of butter and syrup.  This is hilarious because I insist on eating only sugar-free syrup, and I HAVE to have it on the side for dipping, instead of poured all over my waffles/pancakes/toast (it makes everything soggy!)  The butter is separate because I always fuss at Matt when he puts too much butter on my food, and prefer to do it myself.  This is pretty much the only time in history that he’s done things my way without complaint.  He made sure that I understood that it was a birthday-only thing.

That paragraph makes me look like the pickiest eater on the planet.  I swear I’m not.

Dexter wuvs his mommy.

His mommy wuvs him, too.

I didn’t take any photos of the rest of the day.  I decided I’d enjoy my pampering and shopping spree (though we only spent like $15.  Ha. ) camera free!   In the evening, Matt cooked vegetarian moussaka and pulled out a carrot cake he had hidden in the back of the fridge! 

Go ahead, you can be jealous of my hubby.  It’s ok.  It’s better not to resist.