Thursday, March 10, 2016

This is 33.

Today is my birthday. The big thirty-three. I remember back in the days when I thought, "Thirty is so old!". Now as I have skipped, hopped, and sailed past that milestone, from here forward I vow to only think 105 sounds old. :) 

Growing up, in my family, we always made a huge deal out of celebrating everyone's birthday. We were awaken each birthday with some sort of surprise, and then throughout the day had multiple mini celebrations with family and friends (activities to be dictated by the birthday person of course), then to be commenced with the birthday person picking their choice of dinner location. My parents were super excited when I finally transitioned out of my Ryan's Steakhouse phase (Don't judge. It had an entire dessert bar. Dessert people!). As we became adults the tradition didn't stop, and now with my own little family I enforce these birthday rules upon everyone. I have yet to hear a complaint.

As this year's birthday approached, I expected to do pretty much the same. 

However, life got in the way and I barely even knew what day it was let alone that I had some serious celebrating to do. 

These last few weeks have been CRAZY. Now I know, most weeks feel as though we are speeding through life bouncing between work, school, extracurriculars, volunteer activities, etc. However there is crazy, and then there is crazy

Last week, I alluded to Mr. Cute getting hurt during a workout. Well, fast forward to Sunday and that injury became exacerbated ten fold. He injured his back while doing a routine morning workout. All week he had been getting a little bit better each day, and by last weekend he felt he could at least do some small activities and even took the dog for a walk. Sunday afternoon he simply bent over and his back gave completely out. Like, couldn't even move gave out. 

He had been seeing a chiropractor for his initial injury so first thing Monday morning we brought him in for an emergency appointment. It was so sad to witness. My poor husband needed 100% assistance in everything (and I mean everything).  Any slight movement was crazy painful, and it took me 40 minutes just to carry him from our living room to our car, and placing him in our car. Keep in mind I am about a foot shorter and over a hundred pounds lighter. No wonder The Cutes hysterically laughed through the entire process as I am sure it looked all sorts of comical.  

 After what seemed like an extremely painful car ride, and eventful appointment to the chiro, things only seemed to get worse. His whole body he said was spasming. They gave me a Tens machine to hook up to him, but to be honest I was so nervous! I mean, the last thing my poor husband needed was for me to electrocute him on top everything else he was experiencing. 

Fortunately he lived through potential electrocution, however, he progressively was getting worse and worse. By mid-afternoon somewhere after I had The Cutes reigning terror on anything in their path including the dog and each other, Baby Cute screaming because she was hangry, and I had lifted my husband enough times that I feared my own back might give out, I made the executive decision that we were ditching the chiropractor and were headed either to a Orthopedist or the ER - whoever could see us first.

Best. Decision. Ever. 

Now while he was still in a crazy amount of pain, we at least had 1: crazy good drugs prescribed to us, 2: a plan of action other than "just give it time, and pray your wife doesn't electrocute you", and 3: realized it was nothing life altering long term. 

So instead of celebrating mode leading up to my birthday, I kicked it into survival mode. Each day this week he's needed a little less assistance on my part and while I still have to help him in most tasks, drive him everywhere (because hello crazy good drugs), and I see the light at the end of the tunnel. Between managing that, trying to keep our lives as normal as possible with all other activities, and thankfully dodging what would have been my second ever speeding ticket, when I woke this morning if it hadn't been for the loving texts and phone calls, I would have flat forgotten it was my birthday. 

Luckily, even through the chaos, all the special people in my life weren't about to  let me forget. 

I woke up to sweet kisses bright and early from this little guy. 

The Cutes determined on the way to car pool drop off we needed a special birthday breakfast. I gave them all the options they could choose from and it was Chickfila biscuits for the win. 

After carpool we came home and L.C. felt that she needed a mani and pedi to match her outfit. Who am I to turn down a little birthday pampering? She chose this fun blue color

We did some tummy time with Baby Cute. Clearly she is a fan. 

About this time I felt that Mr. Cute could use a rest so I wrangled the rest of us to the car for one of my least favorite birthday tasks...paying my car tag. Normally I do this more in advance but between giving birth and taking care of Mr. Cute it slipped my mind. The nice police officer who gave me a visit yesterday made sure to remind me though...

After carpool, I checked in with Mr. Cute and he was still okay without my assistance, so I took The Cutes to a local cupcake shop. What's a birthday without cupcakes? 

It seriously is the cutest place, and even has mini tables and toys for the kids. We could have stayed there all day. But the sugar high kicked in and that is saying a lot with my two, so for the saftey of all other patrons we made our way home. Then three of the five of us could share in their highs together - cupcakes, Percocet...same thing!

I also brought a few for my sister who helped us out big time this week. Sharing is caring!

Once everyone's sugar rush wore off, I placed The Cutes down for naps and then we headed to the doctor's to get the results of my husbands MRI, and his treatment plan. This was pretty much his position since Monday. We found out that he has a herniated disc and with time and therapy it should be manageable soon. 

The spine specialist we met with showed us various things on his MRI and when Mr. Cute asked if his bad disc would become healthy like the others again soon, point blank the doctor responded, "Welcome to old age. This isn't the fountain of youth." 

Nope my good medical friend, and dear husband, that comes from the good plastic surgeon down the hall. 

We arrived home close to dinner time and was surprised by dinner, flowers, and some fun presents from my family. 

After receiving great news, I think why not begin a celebration? 

So this is 33.
 Life might be a little chaotic, we might be reminded that we are getting a little bit older, but at the end of the day it is always fun. I'll take it. :)

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