my birthday month

I woke up this morning with the sad realization that my birthday month has come to an end. As usual, I celebrated more than necessary the passing of another year of life, brendacentric-style.

I try to control my birthday, because I am a control freak and I don't react well to surprises. I'm sure hours of therapy could unravel that mystery, but anyway, my most embarrassing moment was screaming at my kids to get in the car and then opening the door to find (to my horror) several of my friends singing "happy birthday." They delivered a sumptuous breakfast and a birthday balloon. I doubt any of them love me anymore, but it was nice, and yummy.

I requested a slip-n-slide party, which Sarah delivered, along with strawberry shortcake. And here I am in a swimsuit. You're not going to see that every day, especially not on my blog. And here with Breezy, Heidi, and Sarah.

So then we left for Utah, and arrived, in time to tour temple square on my actual birthDAY. Cool, eh? A big highlight was this lemon poppyseed cake, (a recipe will appear on a future post). It was a cake-doctor kind of thing Velvet scouted out. So I have to give a major shout-out to my sister-in-law, Velvet, who patiently listened as my brother Carl outlined my ideal menu, and kindly agreed to take care of it all. And THEN found out that it was my birthday. I would have been like, "Your sister wants what? Who is she, the queen of Sheba?" But Velvet is just nice like that. Coming to town? I'll bake you a cake. Whatever kind you like. Nice. I could do a whole post and more on how cool Velvet is.

A funny side-note about cousin-bonding (it doesn't all have to be about my birthday month, right?) Maia, Sydney and Grace, Laura and Kate decided to have a sleep-over the first night. They were way too keyed up for that. Kate (18 months, in a big-girl bed) understandably thought it was a "party-in-their-room" and had no intention of sleeping. As I went down to bed, there was still a ruckus going on, and I saw Maia surreptitiously open the door, place bewildered Kate outside, and shut the door. Of course I put Kate back in, took Maia out, and that was the end of that.

Then the next morning Angela, who thank goodness didn't know it was my birthday, made this fabulous praline-topped french toast casserole. (Am I focusing on food? Is that a problem?) Angela and Mark are our marriage twins--we got married on the same day--and the BFFs of our pre-kid/first-baby stage, before they moved away to pursue advanced degrees. (I have to be clear about who left whom. Sniff.) We hadn't seen each other in many years and honestly, we all look GREAT. Better than ever, even. We aren't quite the hippy, musician, artist, poet, idealist, commune-dwellers that we used to be (Mike and I never lived in a commune, but we hung out at Mark and Angela's), but we are still cool in our hearts. Just busy and loving the regular things in life. Like our kids. It was good for my soul to see them. And to see Angela's post about our visit. Stop by and see what a talented writer she is.

And then there was the night at Aunt Gail's in Pleasant Grove. Sitting in her dining room that used to be my grandpa's library, I felt transported as my mind visited so many fancy family dinners in that same spot when it was my grandparent's house. My happy place. I used to love Grandma Norma's homemade rolls (which mysteriously had no recipe) and homemade raspberry jam...but I realized those were not the necessary things. We sat at the same table and ate PIZZA (sorry, grandma) and I was just as happy. Almost to tears. If I could just have Oregon AND the people in that room I'd be in heaven. And the people in Oregon. Hmmm...too much to ask for, I know. Gail broke out s'more stuff and we had a fire on the equally familiar back porch. This is me feeling joy. Blissed out by the fire.

Here is everyone at Carl's. Carl is in the center, standing over Velvet, Grace and Laura (oh shoot, where is Kate?). Grant and Ruth are on the far right, next to Aunt Gail, holding their little Hazel. Grant, to me, is still the kid who used to be Mike's play-mate and co-conspirator when we lived in Utah. They rode their bikes the length of the Oregon trail with my brother Ken. They got lost and suffered hypothermia in Wyoming, in August. They built dirt jumps and sustained injuries goofing off. A broken bone, even. They designed and built ski bikes and dreamt of starting a company together. They got lost and stranded half a night on Mt. Hood, resulting in frost bite for Grant. And it wasn't all adventures--it was a lot of late night pizzas and conversations and laughing at "deep thoughts." And now Grant is all grown up and heading for his PhD in Texas. Not to mention married with child(ren).

It's almost hard to go back because things change so much you never can go back. But these new memories are hard to beat too. For example, here is Mike's butt on our last day.

I know, it's super cute, isn't it?
The way he's playing with the kids, I mean. With childlike abandon.