Happy birthday to me

Last week was my birthday (groans and moans). I had no big plans on the calendar. It was on Wednesday, Oct. 9th. Middle of the usual busy school week. Certainly not a birthday that required celebrating, like we did last June when my husband turned 50. I think I wanted to throw him a big party to get it out of my system. Because when I turn 50, I'd like it to be on the down low.

I did, however, expect to be a bit reflective as I began the last year of my 40s. Not sure how that happened. I could swear that just last month I finished college. Well, I did, indeed, turn 49 with little to no fanfare, which was fine. And as much as I somewhat dreaded heading into that last year of a decade, I must admit as a two-time cancer survivor, it is better than the alternative, not being here to celebrate another birthday. But I was not in the mood to be gracious or grateful.

My week turned out differently than expected. I spent the week in full-on mom mode. Thanks to some unknown version of poison ivy, oak or whatever, my 7-year-old, Noah, was miserable the entire week (my poor husband, as well). I kept him home from school for the first two days of the week. I let him go to school on Wednesday, but had to pick him up after only a couple of hours. Took him to the doctor, where they prescribed a steroid. Let him go to school on Thursday, though I went to the school to put cream on his limbs and give him Benadryl. Did the same on Friday, but he couldn't make it through the day and I picked him up early yet again.

The week flew by as I monitored his every move to be sure he wasn't scratching and causing any areas to open for a possible infection and scarring, keeping hydrocortisone cream on his limbs and Benadryl every four hours seemed to be the combination that worked best for him. And then I thought it was spreading on Friday and Saturday, which now I think was more that it was still coming out from its original exposure. Finally...finally, it seems to be on the mend.

So when someone recently asked how I spent my birthday, I shared details of my week taken over by poison something or other in a way similar to the foreign vine that was overtaking a large pine tree next to our driveway. It was a Jack and the Beanstalk kind of vine and it was the culprit of Noah's misery. It was the Saturday project that took over our entire week, including my birthday.

But at the end of the week, I think it's fair to say that I spent my birthday doing what I love to do, being a mom and making things better for my boys whatever it takes. And last week that meant keeping him home from school, putting cream on every two hours, pouring Benadryl every four hours, running over to school to put more cream on and give more Benadryl, running over to school to pick him up on days when he just couldn't make it through the day, catching up on schoolwork that he missed, keeping him in clothes that were both soft and comfy but would not allow him to scratch, sitting at the doctor's office waiting patiently for the doctor, coaxing Noah into taking the awful tasting steroid medication twice a day and constantly reminding him not to scratch.

It wasn't how I planned to spend my birthday week, but I know I was doing what was most important to me. So my birthday came and went and that's just what I wanted. I did enjoy a phone call from a girlfriend who assured me that 50 is the new 30 (she is six months younger than me). I like her way of thinking. I enjoyed my 30s.