In the week since sharing my news that Squeaker and I are moving back to the States, the responses have been mixed. I’m not sure what I was expecting but maybe a little more of “Good for you for doing what you think is right”? Maybe it’s because I seem like a perennial country hopper, or maybe they wonder how I’m going to do it with a toddler. Who knows.
I also bought a ticket for the beginning of March. That way the worst of the polar vortex should be behind them up north and Squeaker and I can arrive and enjoy spring. Theoretically, at least.
However, in BIGGER news, Thursday is my birthday. Yes, 28 years ago, I was getting ready to make my entrance as a little squeaker and about to cause my parents some serious sleep deprivation.
Unlike past years, we don’t have anything crazy planned (crazy like watching a Breaking Bad marathon until we crash), but I’m thinking some sushi and delicious Chilean ice cream is in order. After all, I have to take advantage of it while it’s right in front of me.
It’s strange because I got more excited for Squeaker’s birthday and Christmas than I do for my birthday. I no longer expect large, extravagant gifts, wrapped in crinkly paper, but she does and I can live vicariously through her joy. Also, at 28 what do can you really look forward to anymore? 30? BAHAHAHAH. I already can vote, smoke, drink and rent a car–although preferably not all at once. So, yay?
This is going to be a short post today, because I’m off to enjoy some much deserved baby-free time