To Buy

I will be the ripe age of 35 on Tuesday. Whoa! How did that happen!? Mentally I'm still 23, dipping into my teen years on occasion. Physically, I feel like I'm...huh, probably 35. My dear, sweet mother lovingly gives me my favorite present every year. Money. Some may say, "Well that's not very personal." But money is NEVER returned. It's very versatile, you can give it in a myriad of means (lay it out on the bed in singles and have the recipient roll around in it). It is, however, exchanged for something else. In this case, I'm thinking I'm going to exchange it for this:

The problem is...I don't have quite enough of it. Insert wailing and gnashing of teeth. I am over half way there, but still need a bit more money. But wait, I have a wonderful, awesome MIL!! Alas, I'm pretty sure she forgot about my birthday. She has only called me once since Christmas, and that was last Wednesday, to ask if she could send the kids a book about a farting dog. She spelled out F. A. R. T. I. N. G. She didn't say anything about my birthday. You may be asking why I didn't just give her my birthday list? Well, because I always thought it was rude to give your demands unless asked. I mean, what if the intended recipient is penniless at the time? Or they just bought a house? Or they're living off rainbows and glitter? Or they just don't like you? Any of these things may or may not be the case with my MIL. Who knows? She did call again on Thursday or Friday to ask if we could inherit a standard poodle if they chose to buy one and she died before it. She readily explained that we could fly it home with us from the funeral. Whoa.... Okay. Nothing about my birthday. And then she called last night to let us know that we didn't need to worry about a poodle outliving her because they didn't get it. Whew, I was totally concerned about that. I mean, that would put us at three large dogs instead of two, but I think we could handle it. And she wanted us to know that the gassy dog book was on it's way and to just substitute tooting for F. A.R.T.I.N.G. Again, nothing about my birthday. Not one word. I'm really hoping, given the fact that not one person (my husband, nor my MIL) has asked about what I want for my birthday, I'll just get money. Then one of these beautiful Bounty of Basics can be mine! All mine!!

If not, and my dear MIL truly forgot, then that's okay. I'm a grown up. I can be patient. I won't be offended. I'm going to be 35 after all. And Christmas is a mere 10 months away. Besides, my birthday money is better spent on something logical, like taxes, or mirrors for our bathrooms, cabinets for our bathrooms (we bought a foreclosure), our puppy getting fixed, something medical (inevitably), clothes for my kids, or who the heck knows what. In the meantime, I will stare longingly at these lovely Basics, trying not to covet.