17th already?

Yeah – it’s my birthday this weekend!

My sisters are coming round, but I am bracing myself for the fact that it won’t be a celebration of me hitting 35. It’ll be another round of goo-ing and gaa-ing and Sophie and Hannah fighting over who will be the next Chesworth to have a baby, while I nip back and forth to the kitchen making pots of tea, feeling neglected.

I’m not really sure whether to try and mark the occasion or not. Now we have The Little One my own birthday seems so unimportant and irrelevant. I’m also used to indulging in alcoholic beverages, all-night movies and poorly-chosen, unhealthy snacks. Not sure any of that fits in with 2am feeding times and early-morning nappy changes. Plus – it was just a habitual thing anyway. I’d plan a film and a decent bottle of wine because that’s what I’d done the year before and then I’d have a badly-behaved blow-out with friends and/or relatives because that’s the sort of thing that adults do on their birthdays.

Can’t be bothered this year, to be honest.

Mind you – it’ll also be the occasion of Mathew’s first calendar month passing, so we could have a joint party and Go For It together! One month for him, 35 years for me!

Yeah – sounds good. I’m going to go and persuade Philippa to bake us both a cake.

RC 17-1-19