Grab a chair and a couple of root beers...

So, tomorrow, I will be fifty.

I'm still trying to decide how I feel about that. It is, after all, half of a century. And I have known the Husbandly One for half of my life, which seems really weird, because I feel like I've known him forever.

When I turned thirty, I barely noticed it. I was a little busy, so it just sort of... passed by. And when I turned forty, well... aside from some black balloons from a few friends, it wasn't that big of a deal, either. In fact, I found forty rather freeing. It was sort of the equivalent of being forced to stand up straight and at attention for 39 years, and then suddenly realizing it was okay, I could relax and take a nice, deep breath and have a bit of a rest now, thanks.

Not only that, but I was able to let go of a few things that had been weighing me down, realizing how utterly ridiculous they were, and boy, was it a relief! They were mostly things my mother had pre-programmed into me, and I was very happy to let them go.

Now, I'm looking at fifty and wondering where that's going to take me. I don't think I look fifty, though I'm not sure I know what fifty is supposed to look like, exactly. The Tall Blonde still insists on looking at my driver's license from time to time because she doesn't entirely believe me, and if she wasn't such a polite person, she'd probably demand to see my birth certificate as well. Still, I feel better than I have in a long time, and as a result, I'm more active than before. It's pretty awesome, so... I guess I'll call my fifties my "awesome decade."

Hey, whatever works!!

Happy 15th Birthday to the Impertinent Daughter.

You are now old enough to start learning how to drive and to find whole new ways to give your mother heart failure. In another year, you'll be old enough to date, and I'm trying very, very hard not to think about that right now, and let's just not mention that to your father, dear, or he'll likely have a meltdown. I mean, he's still trying to adjust to you being old enough to have a moon cycle, know what I mean?

May I say that I am continually amazed by you? I'm amazed by the amount of destruction you leave in your wake in whatever room you're in, I'm amazed by the leaps and bounds you make in your art work, I'm stunned by the maturity you show on occasion, and flabbergasted when I find you happily playing with the Tall Blonde's 3 year old son like the two of you are the best pals ever. I love it that you get my humor, and you tolerate your papa's really awful puns, and I love your sly, subtle humor and the truly devious way your mind works. Please to not be using your evil Jedi mind tricks against your mother, though, since I'm the one who taught them to you, by the way.

And may I apologize for the geekdom I have utterly doomed you to, for I did not know that I was having you on Star Wars Day. Didn't do it on purpose, I promise, but you know, the fact that my water broke while we were watching "The X Files" should have been a big, huge red flag.

Anyway, Happy Birthday, O Impertinent One!!

Yesterday was the Impossible Son's birthday. He's seven now.

*pauses for Extreme Mom Moment*

Okay, I'm better now. Anyhow, he turned seven, and we had just a private, Just Us party for him. We'll have a Hoot'n'Holler for him Saturday after next, but for now, what can be cooler than sitting on the counter in your underwear, waiting for Papa to finish lighting the candles on your cake while your Mom and your big sister stand nearby? And what's better than having them sing happy birthday to you while you accompany them with your very own set of BONGOS!!! Meanwhile, the candles are melting into little pools of wax on your cake, until you blow them out!

Yes, we got Mr. Manzie a set of bongos for his birthday. Are we cool parents (or crazy, depending on your point of view) or what? The nice thing is, bongos are actually kind of quiet,compared to snare drums and such. He's quite happy with them, and he's only been asking for bongos for six months!! He wanted to take them to school, but... no.

I'm still trying to get over the fact that he's seven.

The Impertinent Daughter will be 12 in May. *boggles* Did I mention a boy called last Saturday morning? Right at ten a.m. And on my cellphone!! Hardly anyone has our number, and since she has her own (very limited) cell, it would be more likely she'd give someone her number rather than mine!

We were giggling helplessly over icanhascheezburger.com and my phone rang. I answered it and this boy said, "Is this the Impertinent One?"

Remember, I sound like a 12 (wait, sorry, Alex, a THIRTEEN) year old girl on the phone. Miss Priss actually sounds older than me on the phone!

"No," I said, turning to look at my daughter. "Who is this?"

"Eep!" he said, and hung up rapidly.

O_o!

She has no idea who it might have been, and no one at her school has said diddly-squat to her. So... we don't know!! But it has been vastly entertaining to me, both in the fact that my speculations make her throw things at me ("Oooo, maybe it was that cool new waiter at China Palace who kept dropping stuff every time you looked at him!" "Mom!" she protests and throws balled up socks at me), and in the fact that I make the Husbandly One squirm and nearly cry every time I mention it.

Yes, the Husbandly One nearly cries. He's like, "Nooooo, my baby!!! No, she can't be getting phone calls from boys yet!! She's TOO LITTLE!!!"

And Auntie wickedly says, "But, honey, she's almost twelve!"

And he claps his hands over his ears, practically wailing in protest. "My baby!! My baby!!"

Wait... isn't that supposed to be me???

Maybe one day, I'll regale you all with stories of what my dad did when I started dating. It's a wonder I even made it out of the house!! At least Miss Priss doesn't have a Marine for a dad. Dating when your dad is a Marine is like... a special kind of hell. I wouldn't recommend it to anyone. You're better off joining a convent. Even if you aren't Catholic. You'll definitely see more action, that's for sure!

Well, I must head off to the track! Have a good day, y'all!

Love,

Auntie