They say it's your birthday

38 years old today...gah.

To celebrate, the world's gassiest baby gave me a break. She slept from 10:30 last night until 4 a.m. when she ate quickly and promptly went back to sleep at 5. She then slept in until 9 a.m. so I got another nice chunk of sleep. Bliss (though, as my SIL said, it's kind of sad when you're excited about 4 hours of sleep).

The celebration continued when she - OMG - slept in the car (she hates the car with a white hot burning passion--virtually assuring that I am, on most days, a prisoner in my own home) on the way to the bank and to the giant reviled retail store for diapers and some various other sundries.

Now she sleeps again while I pack away J's too-small clothes, do the laundry, and catch up on my blogs. So far, one person has wished me a happy birthday. It seems as though the rest of them may have forgotten me (mind you, I didn't even remember it was my birthday until about 10:30 this morning). Man, this birthday rocks...

...maybe not so much.