Birthday Weekend

Friday was my 33rd birthday. It was a wonderful day at work, followed by an average evening, followed by a dismal weekend. I'm not sure what happened, but it's certainly not something I wish to repeat.

Friday morning, I went to work in my favorite off-the-shoulder red sweater and some velvet pants (with snow boots). I was pretty cute and got quite a few compliments. When I arrived, there was a large present on my desk along with many well-wishers. For lunch, we congregated in a conference room and had plenty of conversation and cake. I went home very happy and pleased with this odd-year birth day. When I got home, my hubby was calling to say he was going to the gym. OK. Then, we he got home, he said we were going out to dinner. Nothing was really planned, he just picked a place where we could be somewhat "good" and provide variety for the kids. The restaurant was Chinese and the food was only OK. The girls seemed happy, but I wasn't as thrilled as I usually am about going out.

Saturday, we spent most of the day at home cleaning. Not exactly my idea of a send-off birthday weekend, but it needed to be done. Then, my hubby says, "Well, I'm going to the gym." After some pretty bad miscommunication, he believed that I'd given the OK for this. I certainly had not. I did not want to compete with the gym again, but here it was. The babe had a friend over and I spent the afternoon in my room on the computer. That evening, we went to a show with the babe (while Indy was cared for by a babysitter). The event was fine, it was the guilt I felt for leaving Indy with a babysitter that had me not feeling so well.

Sunday, we went to church. All was well until Hubby snapped at me in the Costco. After that, I just didn't say much (and I haven't since). It's Monday, a new week and I'm already wishing it were Friday.