My Totally Awesome Birthday

My Birthday. It was December 3rd. 1984. Which means I am 26 years old.

After giving birth twice, I am more convinced than ever that birthdays should be celebrating the MOM and not the kid. Kids get Christmas, Easter, Halloween, and Grandparents. That's more than enough opportunity for them to be spoiled and self-centered.

Moms, on the other hand, get one measly day. Just one. Mother's Day. And that's the day we think about how awesome our moms are for all they do, yada yada yada. That's a good day. But you know what? We don't stop very often and contemplate what it took to get us into this world. It took a MOM! And unless she got an epidural at the first contraction--it HURT! [And that's not even counting all the recovery. Can I get an amen?]

I think that each child's day of birth should be celebrated as the mom's birthday. What do you think?

Ok, before I swear off everyone else's birthday except my own (and other moms) I will give you the downlow on my birthday. Or, the day MY mom popped me out. Gracias, Mama. As my Dad always reminds me (particularly on my birthday) I came out in a gush of water and was Mom's easiest birth. Nonetheless, I'm sure I did a doozy on poor Mom--a mother of two toddler boys at the time.

There wasn't a whole lot of anticipation about presents, because I got them all before my birthday. But they were all AWESOME presents!

My sweet hubby did something so thoughtful it knocked my socks off. He ordered (without any hints on my part) the Pioneer Woman Cookbook. Now before you think that Matt's the kind of guy that wants me barefoot in the kitchen all day, you must hear me out. He knows that I love the Pioneer Woman. Idolize her. Wish I was her. Ok, this is getting creepy. Anyways, he knows how much I love reading her blog and making her recipes and he ordered it for me. I love him! He also got me an awesome scarf from Urban Outfitters--one that I had my eye on while we were hanging out in SLO. Good job, babe.

I'm gonna get so fat.

My parents had given me some money for shopping and I got a weather-proof coat (an absolute must for living here) and wasn't sure what I would do with the rest of it. Until I meandered out of the Davis thrift store. Holy Moses. I fell in love with my second piece of furniture (the first episode of this type of infatuation occurred with my beloved couch).

Here's why I fell in love:

When I was a kid I read these books about a girl named Betsy who grew up at the turn of the century. As Betsy grew up, I grew up. And in many ways, I related to her life and personality. She was imaginative, a brunette, and loved to write. She also ended up marrying her high school sweetheart...who was a book nerd.

 Anyways, she had this old trunk that she used as a desk and I would just long for a trunk like Betsy's. To this day, an old trunk has been on my list of things I have always wanted.

Well, my soul mate was waiting for me outside the thrift store. Not Matt. The trunk. It looked old, traveled, and full of stories. It was $50. I looked a little closer and saw that it was made in 1900.

Betsy's trunk!!!!

I immediately marched, or I should say plowed, with my double stroller back into the store and bought the thing with my birthday money. I kept looking around all sneaky-like because I was sure some antique guru would come in and snag it away from me. I haven't ever stolen anything, but as I bought that trunk I had this sensation that I was taking something for nothing.

Cool.

Don't worry. I'm not going to become a shoplifter. Although my daughter is definitely one. The other day we walked into two stores before I realized that Coco had swiped a reindeer stuffed animal in Hallmark. Gulp. A two year old thief. These are things they don't warn you about when you become a mother.

Anyways-----back to my birthday. The Pioneer Woman, the trunk, AND dinner (courtesy of my sweet parents-in-law) made my birthday awesome. We went to Cheesecake Factory which has become a tradition of three years running so far. Coco was actually well-behaved. Angels we have heard on high.


My birthday week was also made awesomer by my sweet cousin coming to visit. She flew all the way from Texas just to chill with us and participate in the every day humdrum thrilling Leonard life. Cosette was intoxicated with Aunt Karee's attention, and made it quite clear that Aunt Karee would do everything for her, including wiping her butt. It's like the ultimate compliment if Coco insists that you accompany her to the bathroom. You attain mom-status, and I am happily demoted to second fiddle.

We had so much fun with Karee and really appreciated the quality time we got with her. We enjoyed lots of coffee, Trader Joe's peppermint oreos, and late-night talks. I love you, Karee!

Anyways, my birthday week was terrific. It's always fun to kick off the holidays with my own birthday :) Next up, our anniversary! More to come...

Celebrating With Sorrow: World AIDS DAY 2010

Thanksgiving came and went and was really a wonderful time. A large group of us got together in SLO at my little brothers' house and we spent about three days just eating and eating and eating. If I wasn't a breastfeeding mama I probably would have come home 5 pounds heavier. Thank you, chubby Chauceman, for being such an avid eater :)

Anyways, today is World Aids Day and I confess I don't do anything to engage in the struggle against AIDS.  A year ago I did a project in school that allowed--or I should say forced me to put myself in someone else's shoes. I wrote about it here. It was so good to immerse myself in that project because for a few weeks I was completely aware of the horrible pandemic. I was literally burdened by it. Coincidentally, I was reading through Ecclesiastes at the time (maybe not the smartest choice if you know what I mean--then again, maybe it was).

I underlined this verse in my Bible and wrote: "Researching AIDS for an afternoon. Devastating." This is the verse:

"For in much wisdom is much vexation, and he who increases knowledge increases sorrow" (1:18).

I think for the most part it is really easy to not think about things like AIDS, malaria, the sex slave trade, and just about every other form of suffering that doesn't immediately affect me. I feel like there is enough craziness in my own tiny life with a two year old and an infant. And even as I type this I feel foolish to call it "crazy" when both kiddos are healthy, happy, and will grow up in a solid home.

It's when I stop and and "increase" my own knowledge on the subject that I become burdened, depressed, and many times hopeless.

And I think that's good.

James writes that a pure religion is caring for the orphans and widows in their affliction (James 1:27). Today I have been assaulted with a heavy conviction that because I don't think about them, I don't care for them. And because I am not caring for them, I am not displaying a pure religion. It's pretty simple logic, right?

I am so glad that today is World Aids Day. I am ready to start being burdened again for someone besides myself.