Jesus, I'm 52! My birthday weekend

It was a crazy, long freaking weekend. It actually started on Thursday last week. I took Friday off from work for two reasons. First, it was my birthday and I turned "Sweet 52." More about that later and snickering will not be tolerated. Second, my older son came home for a 96 which means he was with us for four days before going back to the Marines.

Things started out semi-normal. On Friday morning I took my boyfriend, my youngest son, and my older son's girlfriend (I'm thinking I should make a family tree here so people can keep up) to breakfast in my honor. This is the only kind of activity that I can organize in my honor which people will gladly go to, any kind of activity centering around food.

Breakfast was great. It had been a long time since I had choked down 375 grams of cholesterol in one meal like that and the three cups of coffee kept me in a manic mood till way after sundown.

After breakfast my boyfriend took me to a department store and treated me to the shower gel and perfumed talcum powder for Angel perfume (which I already have). I have to make a side comment here and explain that although I think wearing a lot of makeup or hair extensions or a fake tan will just make most women look bizarre (especially older, "mature" women), I can't stress enough how strongly I feel about smelling good! Of course, cleanliness is the first and most important thing, but a very close second is wearing a nice fragrance. In my younger years, I would follow a man wearing a great cologne for blocks, no matter how unattractive he was. I don't do that any more because I would probably scare people if I followed them at my age. Also, now there are rules against stalking and they invented restraining orders and whatnot. I am NOT talking here about people who wear so much perfume that the oxygen content in an elevator is immediately sucked out as soon as they walk in. But I love perfume, and Angel is my favorite at the moment.

To get back to my ranting about my weekend: We picked up my oldest son from the airport. We have a big poster that we painted for him when he came home from boot camp about 2-1/2 years ago that says "The Few, The Proud, The AJ." We did a great job, the huge letters on the poster are in a camouflage pattern and "AJ" is in red, white and blue. Every time he comes home, we drag it out and take it to the airport with us and hold it up when he comes walking out. For some weird reason, I never cry when my son leaves. My heart breaks every time he has to leave, especially when he gets deployed, but I can't cry. I think it has to do with not showing him that my heart is breaking because if this is difficult for me it has to be just as hard or harder on him. BUT I am Niagara Falls every time he comes home. This time, I hung around his neck for a long time bawling my eyes out and smiling. I love that guy.

My two sons went about doing guy things on Saturday, while I washed clothes and did the mom thing, happy to see them doing things together as they always used to do. It was a nice and quiet Saturday, they washed the dog, cleaned the garage a bit, took a look at my Jeep's engine and put in some gas treatment or something. My mom made lasagna and after dinner we had a little cake for my son (his b-day was May 12th) and myself.

Yeah, I'm 52! The first 18 years of my life went by painfully slow, it seemed that the days did not pass, there was time for everything and when someone told you that something would happen "next year" that meant you had to wait a loooooong time. After 18, my life became a blur and after I got married and had kids it just whizzed by.

I have to say I have enjoyed myself. I've made lots of mistakes. For example, I let Carlos Santana walk past me at the Mexico City airport in1973, we both smiled but I was too shy to approach him. Therefore, Carlos and I never shacked up, alas. Most of my mistakes have been of the "I wish I woulda" category. I have to admit I've always been chickenshit when it comes to making bold decisions or taking drastic measures. I always wanted to backpack through Europe but my mom and grandma talked me out of it because I would get raped for sure. I was hired by an airline in my early 20's but I didn't take the stewardess job (which I had always dreamed of) because my dad said I would be too far from my family. The few times I have tried to be bold and insist on doing what I want, I've had bad things happen (see my post on getting mugged).

But here I am, I've plodded through, gotten an education, planted trees, tried to write books, gotten married, had my kids, raised them, I'm still here, still breathing, doesn't hurt! So I feel that I've had a charmed life in spite of not having done a lot of things I wanted to do. If I backpack through Europe now I could probably still do it, but in a few years I'm going to need a walker. I can retire in 13 years! That last realization made my heart race a little bit but maybe it's the coffee.

The rest of my weekend was wonderful except for the fact that my two boys got into one of their horrible fights. Why are boys like that? My sister and I were raised together and we fought maybe twice (physically fight, not the screaming and crying matches, we did those all the time). My sons HAVE to fight when they have been apart a while and then get back together, like this weekend. They patched things up right away, though.

My older son left Monday morning while I stoically watched him walk away, not a single tear out of my eyes. He will be back again in a month's time for his pre-deployment leave. He and his brother will probably get into a fight again.

I'll be 53 next year...