on entering in to the 43rd year of life

Tonight, I hope to sit down and finally finish a post that I'd started three days ago, recapping my birthday weekend. Considering we had babysitters two nights in a row, which is completely unprecedented for us, you might imagine the caliber of fun that we'd enjoyed.

Friday night we went to see my friend, Holly, at her former neighbor's home. A home which was quite possibly, the most magnificent private residence we've ever been in.  Charlie and I had been thinking that it was perhaps the second nicest home we'd ever been in, until the hostess took us on a tour of the 5,000-bottle wine cellar and that put them right over the top. 

Saturday morning, I woke up to the most precious cards from the children...  

And the most wonderful gifts from Charlie. 

That the children proceeded to open on my behalf. 

We then trekked off to the circus and it was ... a circus.  

Charlie and I haven't been to the circus in our adult lives, so we weren't prepared for just how insane of an experience it is. We'd be sitting in awe at the death-defying stunts, and then, they'd take it to a whole new level.  You think it's crazy to see a guy riding his motorcycle on the tight rope? What if he has a woman suspended?  Oh yeah? What if he has TWO women suspended? 

Or what if two women are suspended by their hair ... while juggling? 

Do you think it's wild to see us ride two motorcycles around in circles inside a 10-foot metal ball? What if we had four riders? How about six? HOW ABOUT EIGHT?

We were having an enjoyable time, until the man whom I think might have been missing a significant part of his cerebrum, entered a caged area full of hissing lions and tigers on his own volition. Charlie can't watch ice skating, or women on the balance beam in gymnastics because he's afraid to see someone fall - so he almost passed out with the lion show and had to put his head between his knees. We both thought for sure this guy was going to be lunch. And we were going to see it happen. 

On Saturday evening, once the children were sound asleep, we left them in the care of another neighbor babysitter and we rendezvoused with three other couples at a fancy little restaurant downtown. By 11:00 PM, two of the more responsible couples told us that they needed to get home to their babysitters. But our babysitter told us that she didn't need to be home until 1:00.  So instead of Charlie and I acting our age and going home and putting on our matching Snuggies, we opted instead to not go home just yet. 

Long story short, we went to an Irish Pub where there was an abundance of college-aged kids.  And at some point, as Charlie and my friend's husband sat upstairs in the "quiet" part of the pub, my friend and I went downstairs to the "dance" part of the pub where we proceeded to dance like we were half our age.  During this dance-fest, my friend points to me and yells to the group, "TODAY IS HER BIRTHDAY!"  And someone shouts, "Woo-Hoo! How old are you?" And because it was so loud they'd never hear me if I told them, I instead held up my hands - four fingers on one hand - two fingers on the next - and everyone applauds, "Woo-Hoo! Twenty-four!" 

Um. Twenty-four? 

I should have just gone with it, but I felt compelled to tell this crowd of youngsters they had it backwards. And once I shook my head and reversed my hands, there was the briefest moment where the dancing slowed and people craned to look at me in the strobe light darkness. Then a young jovial frat boy who could've been my son, gave me a hip bump and yelled,  "42? There ain't no shame in that, baby!  There ain't no shame!"  

While I've opted to adopt that as my new catch phrase, I decided in that moment that there would have been a whole lot of shame if someone else had hip bumped me and I wound up with a fracture or otherwise incapacitated. So I decided it was time to go home and have a cup of warm calcium-rich milk and contemplate how not only are the days of riding two horses while standing up most definitely over ... so too are the late night/early morning dance-offs in a nightclub. 

Not at all surprisingly, due to our back-to-back fun on Friday and Saturday night, all the plans I'd had for Sunday morning went flying out the window when I woke up feeling like someone had smacked me over the head with a board. So I immediately turned to Charlie and demanded, "How could you let this happen?" and I don't exactly remember his response but I think it had something to do with, "It's not my fault."  

So I told him something along the lines of, "When I'm crazy enough to jump through a ring of swords that have been set ablaze and I'm blindfolded ... you must not just stand there and watch.... 

No, it is your job as my husband - just as it my job as your wife - that in this circus of life that we're in together ...

We must catch each other before we fall." 

And if by some chance we miss, we must make the injured party mashed potatoes, provide a foot rub, and allow them the opportunity to sleep in until noon.  

I'm pretty sure that was in our vows.