(Birthday) Weekend Update

Friends, we made it.

We've finally landed in our first big city (a top-ten market!) where we will spend the next five years while I attempt to procure yet another tiny piece of paper. The move itself was insane, involving a 6:00 am departure, a nervous cat, and the worst customer service experience ever with a certain cable company that I shall not name on the internet because I don't want to be sued. However, you cannot truly appreciate the entire moving experience without an understanding of the Birthday Week and its role in these past few days.

Ok, in my family a considerable amount of hoopla goes into anyone's birthday. A few years ago, I described the NFL game road trip that we surprised The Boss with on his birthday. In the spirit of The Boss, who likes to assert that he has more of a Birthday Month or Birthday Quarter than merely one day, Husband has slowly broadened the scope of his birthday over the past few years. You may recall his Birthday Weekend a few years ago. Well, this year, he decided that he really was entitled to a Birthday Week. The catch, however, was that his Birthday Week happened to fall on the week in which we moved. Out of state. As in, from one state into another state.

As you can imagine, much ado was made about the injustice of this move and how it was ruining the Birthday Week. Poor Husband had to pack boxes DURING HIS BIRTHDAY WEEK and go through his clothes to set some aside for Goodwill ON HIS BIRTHDAY. In fact, Husband declined his traditional birthday breakfast in bed because he had to go to work early so he could come home early to pack the Uhaul.... DURING HIS BIRTHDAY WEEK.

Once we got here, to the state where they make you put tags on the back and front of your car (seriously?!), Husband decided he'd had enough: "I'm not going to unpack a single thing. Its my Birthday Week. I'm going to sit on the..... on the floor...... and eat cake." Because, you see, Husband decided he wanted to sell all of our furniture before we moved, and I had not yet procured a couch for him to sit upon DURING HIS BIRTHDAY WEEK.

We'd heard the lore about Ikea (and we now live in a city that has one), so off we trudged to find some furniture. We had previously visited about 7 furniture stores in the area and found them all to be way out of our price range, so you can imagine how excited I was about the prospect of more shopping. But Husband wanted a couch FOR HIS BIRTHDAY, so off we went.

People, Ikea is a land of unicorns and butterflies and I would live there if they would let me bring my books.

After much debate, which included Motha! and I dragging various pieces of furniture across the store to see things together (I thought Husband might go wait in the car at one point), we finally decided on a couch and coffee table, and I found a bookshelf, which The Boss and Motha! were buying for me as a congratulatory "you survived your MA!" present.

Et voila!

Husband was quite content to sit on his couch and eat the cookies that Cass, M.D. (Brother Robby's sweet wife) baked him for his birthday. Later that night when everyone was gone, we were sitting there together, and Husband turns to me and says, "welcome home."

affirmation

My latest goal in life is to prepare fully balanced meals.

Wow, that was quite housewife of me. They're going to revoke my Feminist card. [At least The Boss will be pleased.]

When I first got married, I was barely able to get a sufficiently cooked protein on the plate, but I am now feeling like its important to have side dishes and bread thrown into the mix. I have been a bit cocky about this lately. When Husband and I sit down to plates that are full of three or four different food items, I have been known to say things like, "I am so glad I can feed you so well. Aren't you glad you married me? I am basically awesome."

[PLEASE remember before you judge me that I never cooked a day in my life until right before I got married and I still break out into hives when making something for the first time. Don't you remember this little debacle? And this one?]

The only problem with this is that Husband likes very few vegetables that are traditionally used for side items. He does not like corn. He does not like squash. Besides vegetables, I have only ever used rice as a side item, and guess what he REALLY doesn't like? Yeah. Rice. I am basically limited to potatoes and salad. That's it.

About a week ago, I thought I would give green beans a try. BAH! While he took a generous portion, Husband ate about 2.5 green beans. After dinner, I called him out about it.

"Wow, so no green beans, huh?"

"Yeah..... green beans are gross."

I think he noticed my crestfallen expression at my failure to provide acceptable side items because he immediately grabbed my butt and said, "YOUR green beans were delicious."

[Smirk.]

bringing it back

scenes from a family dinner, in which the participants discuss the idiosyncrasies of acapella singing:

Me: We're definitely not short on the joy in our singing here. We "fly away" on a regular basis. Its nice, though, the joy.

The Boss: Yeah, at least its not the other extreme. [deadpans, straight-faced and monotone] Praise the Lord. Thank you, Lord.

Motha!: Please! Sometimes I can't keep myself from gettin' down. I just hope people around me don't make fun of the way I sing. I don't use the suggested notes. I pick my own notes.

Brother Robby: I've decided that you get to pick someone that you sound like to God. When you sing, He actually hears the other person. I picked John Mayer.

Husband: Hey, I do that, too!

Motha!: Yeah? Who are you?

Husband: [sheepishly] Justin Timberlake.

Happy Dia Del Birth, Pappy!

Scene: Taco Bueno in Denton, TX

Brother Robby: So, dad, in your illustrious years on this earth, what has been your most meaningful day? Your greatest memory?

Me: Perhaps when you held your first child, nay, your only daughter, in your arms for the first time?

Brother Robby: Or the birth of your eldest son?

Little Scotty: Or the founding of Team Massive? [Team Massive is the exclusive, members-only society of muscular men. See Little Scotty to apply.]

Me: Or the day you walked your ONLY DAUGHTER down the aisle? Gave her away? Your ONLY DAUGHTER? The only time you will get to do that?

Motha!: It seems like dad isn't really getting a chance to get a word in here, guys.

The Boss: I'm having a hard time narrowing it down to just one.

Me: Which is why I'm giving you options! Birth of first child........? Walking your only daughter down the aisle.....?

Husband: It must have been the day I came into your life.

The Boss: You? Maybe your iPhone.

Da Boss

This weekend is Birthday Weekend de Boss.

[Little Scotty likes to use descriptors en Espanol. He taught me that noun de adjective/descriptive noun is a much cooler way to name something. Like, the Hobbit Hole, for example. Much cooler to say Hobbit Hole de Sister than 'my sister's apartment.']

Birthday Weekend de Boss will be a festivus previously unknown to mankind. They'll be writing poetry proclaiming its glory for centuries to come. I'm imagining fireworks and a high school band.

Just wanted to let you know what was going on, if and when you feel the shift in the cosmos that is bound to occur.

remove foot from mouth

The Boss was visiting on Thursday, and he and Brother Robby came over to eat cake with Husband and I. Anytime either The Boss or Motha! comes to visit, the other one gets a little jealous of the face time with the kids. We don't get to all be together nearly enough, and any time spent with each other is highly coveted. Motha! is always telling me about how she brags to The Boss whenever she sees us, and The Boss likes to whine about how he is always left out of the loop.

So we're all hanging out, eating cake, and Motha! calls. I immediately know that we're all in trouble. We had been hanging out for a good 15 minutes without calling Motha! to let her in on the fun. This is just not done. Motha! must be included. After telling Motha! all our favorite parts of the past 15 minutes, The Boss promised to call back. Brother Robby and I were laughing about how The Boss would be able to hold this over her head for at least a week.

Only, Husband doesn't quite understand how this whole system works. He couldn't figure out why we were saying Motha! would be so "upset."

"I mean, I really think you (The Boss) have a lot more to complain about than she does. You're just here for this one night. When she comes, she stays for DAYS."

Oops.

a quote for The Boss

While revising my art paper, I listened to the Republican debate, which Husband had on in the background. This little zinger from Mitt Romney had to be posted to the blog immediately, just for the The Boss.

"You know, I've gotten to know these guys over these debates. This is, what? Our 6th? 7th? But its a bit like Law & Order, isn't it Senator? There's a huge cast, it goes on forever, and Fred Thompson shows up at the end."

And somewhere, a young Romney staffer just got a raise.

amended

Brother Robby pointed out something quite revealing regarding the previous post.

"What you did leave out, however, is that The Boss is exempt from any and all Favorite Part conversations, except of course to mock and cause discord in any and all Favorite Part Dialouge."

Its true. The Boss is the one person who can manipulate the rules of Favorite Part. Maybe that's where Husband gets his disobedient ways?

the only appropriate thing to write about on this day

Welcome, October! Its good to see you. I wish you were bringing a little more cold weather [85 degrees?! in October?!], but all in all its nice to have you back.

You should know, October, that you belong exclusively to The Boss. You, October, are The Boss's* birthday month.

[Yes, you read that correctly. Others get a birthday weekend. Some only get a birthday. The Boss gets a birthday month. The world is as it should be.]

[Because, let's face it, when you pay for a wedding, you deserve a daily foot massage.]

In fact, The Boss is the original owner of birthday privileges. He taught us what it means to be the birthday boy. During the month of October, he does not go a second without a Diet Dr. Pepper in his hand. He is the prince of October. While it may seem like toil to cater to someone's every whim during their birthday month, the efforts of The Boss in teaching us all about the birthday month allowed the rest of us to act like royalty in our own respective birthday months. See? He's just making sure he teaches us those valuable life lessons. For one month out of every year, I got to boss around my brothers and not feel bad about it. And I am forever thankful for that.

So, pull up a chair, October. It's going to be a great month, a celebration of The Boss.

Happy Birthday month, Dad!


*Lest anyone try to argue with me over the dilemma of Boss' versus Boss's, I LOOKED IT UP. I am right. Deal.

his big debut

excerpts from a recent email...

Sis:
I have decided that my feelings are hurt.
There is Husband. There is Motha. There is Brother Robby. There is Little Scotty.
Then there is “chopped liver”.....me..... no nickname, no fond memories, no nothing.
Readers think your Dad died when you were 4 years old.

[Sniff]
Dad

Welcome to the show, Boss!