Happy Birthday, Mom!

I am an addict.

I have been since I was a child, but I never realized it until now. And as we all know, the first step to overcoming addiction is realizing that you have a problem.

It seems like the more I use, the more I need.

There is never enough.

When I had my children I thought that I wouldn't need it as much, but it turns out that I need more. I need more now than I ever have.

Now my children are hooked, too. But I don't share mine with them like I should.

I wake up every morning with a fresh batch of it, only to discover at the end of the day that I've wasted most of it.

Sometimes it lasts forever, sometimes it goes too quickly. Usually it goes too quickly.


My drug of choice is in high demand, but there is a limited supply.


There isn't enough. I can't get enough. I will never have enough time.


Speaking of the passing of time, yesterday was my mom's 55th birthday. I threw her a Pink Princess Party with pink streamers, balloons, and excessive alliteration. (This seemed like suitable revenge for the black balloon bouquet that she gave me for my 30th birthday.) I accidentally put 57 candles on her cake(s). I was going to take the extra candles off but DJ told me, and I quote (you can tell by these: ""): "It looks better when you complete the row." So, don't tell my mom, but I think I just shortened her life by two years.

Look at all of those candles!

Each one of those candles represents an important year:
1955: The year of my mother's birth. Also the year that George McFly kissed Lorraine and Marty repaired the space-time continuum.

1955-1979: A lot of important things happened, like my parents getting married, NASA landing on the moon, Rowe v. Wade, etc.

1980: The year I was born.

1990: The year everyone learned to line dance.

1995: One word: Lowell.

1995-2010: We'll call this the Accumulation of Grandchildren period. Fifteen and counting.

Here's us celebrating 55 awesome years:We love you, Mom! Happy birthday!