And I really don't have much to say beyond that, but I felt like I should post something, you know?
32 isn't very momentous, though I wonder if I'll ever get over the feeling that I'm usually the youngest person in the room. Marc keeps telling me it's just not true, and I rationally know that it's not always true, but I guess my self-perception needs to catch up a bit.
Hannah had a teary episode over not really having a gift for me, and Marc laughed that I gave a very "mommy" response saying something like all I need is to know that she loves me. This morning, when Max saw fit to wake us up at 5 am, Marc told him it's my birthday. Max enthusiastically replied "CAKE!" At least someone's excited!
Again, happy birthday. Sometimes I ask the kids how old I am. Mark knows, but Naomi is always up for an interesting response. Some days I am three years old and other days she tells me that I am 86 years old.
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