I didn't think it was that big a deal to turn 36. And really, it's not, unless you want to count the fact that this is the first time I've heard comments about how forty is just around the bend. A four-year bend, but whatever.
Scott and I celebrated early at a posh hotel in Leavenworth, and had a kick-ass time, so when my birthday came and went pretty much uneventfully, I was all right with it. Sure, it was a little bit disappointing, but since I'm practically middle-aged now, I get the impression I should be lowering my expectations anyhow.
Then I went to my AA meeting on Monday. Scott had practically hustled me out the door. When I came back the place smelled like pizza; it was wonderfully tidy which is just short of miraculous in these double-toddler days. He said the kids had a surprise for me, and when I went into their room, there was a roomful of my people! Yes, folks, it was a bona fide surprise party.
This is my first surprise party, and you know what, it was pretty damn cool. We ate pizza and cake and ice cream, hung out, opened presents. The only people I love who weren't there are the ones who live more than two hours away. Scott whipped the whole thing up at the last minute so the turnout was really quite impressive.
It made my birthday. I can stand to be on the narrow side of forty with folks like this around me.