I was already psyched for today because Dustin and Rob are coming over for pizza and cake and RockBand. (I am, of course, disappointed that Cortney and Quinnie can't be here, but I'm not going to let it interfere with the rawk.)
Then I call Jeremy and he asks if I can bring the kids by to visit today. Why? I wondered. Well, his coworkers found out it was my birthday tomorrow, so they got me cake. Awesome, right? Two cakes in one day = sugared up Hott Mama. So, I put Dorian in the car and we headed over. (I did not want to wait for Sebastian to get off the bus. He doesn't even like cake anyway.)
After Dorian starts devouring my cake, they asked me how old I would be this year. I tell them 33, to which they reply that they would have guessed 25. (Clearly, my Delia's top was distracting from the gray hair that has recently been flourishing on my head.) And here's where instead of cake, I decided to put my foot in my mouth. "If I were 25, that would have made me a 19 year old mom... [realize 2 of the women I'm talking to were teen mothers] and I don't think I could have handled that." Um, whoops! So I tried to cover it up with, "but if only I'd started then, the kids would be out of the house when I was 40." Go ahead, girl, keep diggin' that hole...
At that point, I thanked them again for the cake and stuffed my face with it to prevent any further embarrassment to myself or others.
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