I had a birthday last year. I'm sure you were wondering, because I never blogged about it, and if you don't blog about something can you be sure that it even happened? But I did have one. My birthday came four days after I had Asher, so my body was a mess of hormones and pain medication with my mind reeling in the exhilarating wake of new motherhood. All of my siblings-in-law were in town, and they made my birthday delightful. Think macaroni and cheese made on the grill and the most amazing pesto lasagna you've ever had plus cupcakes with cookie-dough centers plus loving on a newborn all day plus a small nap thrown in.
Josh's gift surprised me. He gave me a gift card to a spa, something I didn't even know that I'd want. I was excited at the prospect, but knew that I wouldn't be able to use it for a while. With a babe who nursed every three hours and didn't fall for the bottle, escaping to the spa for an afternoon wasn't on my radar. Then I kind of forgot about the gift certificate. Then I kind of lost the gift certificate. But when I remembered it I was determined to find it, because dammit, I deserved that spa day. So I found it, and I used it.
I went last month and because of a coupon enjoyed a manicure, pedicure, and a facial. Did I mention that the pedicure was 80 minutes long? Because it was. And it was heavenly. On top of all that pampering, I got four hours all by myself. I love my husband, and I love my son, but I also love time to myself that doesn't involve one ear paying attention to the baby monitor.
When I got home I promptly informed Mr. Wilson that every time I have a baby he has to give me a spa day, regardless of how close or far away my birthday is. That's the new rule.