Half-baked

I love birthdays. I take pride (a little too much, probably) in making a really big deal out of birthdays. I plan, I prepare, and I execute with cake, balloons, presents, cards and whole days dedicated to the birthday boy or girl. My husband's big 3-0 should have been no exception.

Should.

As far as birthdays go, his big day was an epic fail in my book. It was doomed for failure, actually, due to circumstances beyond my control. We spent the week leading up to his birthday fighting a losing battle against a stomach virus that systematically attacked every member of our family (except the little guy...he's too cute to get a stomach bug, apparently). This halted every good intention I had for present buying, cake baking, and meal planning. Even my plans to have the kids make cards for their dad were thwarted.

I almost pulled it off. But instead of a big birthday dinner, we dined on leftovers. And instead of presents, I had only a UPS tracking number to offer. Just when it looked like my one saving grace might be the individual hot chocolate cakes I baked in mugs for each member of the family, Justin dipped into his to find a cup of batter. Warm, half-baked delicious chocolate cake batter. He shrugged it off. I died a little inside.

Happy 30th birthday, Honey. Thanks for putting up with my shenanigans, and for loving me in spite of my complete inability to properly celebrate your big day. We'll try again next year.