Birthday....It's Official

It's official.  I'm in my 30's now.  You may have been under the impression that "in your 30's" starts at 31. Or maybe even 30.  Well, not in my world, it doesn't.  I decided to give myself a grace year (or two), and only now will I grudgingly admit to being a thirty-something.

If I had to turn 32, at least I got to celebrate with a fun birthday week!

Two of my absolute best friends, Steph and Eryn, took me to dinner one night.
We had tons of fun, not to mention, a very overeager waiter who apparently wanted to grow a ponytail and dye it orange.

(He actually told us that without even a hint of irony.)

(Clearly he has the confidence to pull it off.)

Inappropriate? Completely.
Did I laugh my head off when I got this birthday card in the mail from a friend (you know who you are!)?
Why, yes.  Yes, I did.  

Another birthday dinner with two of our best friends, Rod and Kristin.
And baby Riley, of course.

As mentioned in my last post, a couple of noteworthy things happened during my birthday this year.

For starters,  I was actually surprised. 

I believe I've mentioned in the past that John and I are notorious for throwing each other "surprise" birthday parties.  As in, hey, which day is Sherri's annual surprise birthday party, John?

This year, it was more like, SURPRISE!  There's no birthday party planned for you.

But, you know.  In a good way.

John and I went to dinner with my parents and AG on the night of my birthday. He was being awfully pushy about what time we HAD TO get there, and so as we arrived I literally started looking around for friends' cars and familiar faces.

In my mind, I'm all, yeah, yeah, when is everyone gonna jump out and yell surprise.....let me mentally practice my surprise face now.

Or not.

Then, a couple of friends show up halfway through our meal, and I'm thinking......ah ha! that's smart, have everyone come LATE and surprise me.  Nice work, babe.

At which point I realize that our friends are actually there for a datenight, NOT a surprise party.

I had to tell on myself and admit all of this to John later.

(It must be a real treat to be married to me.)

Upon arriving home, John's all, "you have 30 minutes to pack a suitcase. Your parents are keeping AG tonight."

To which I reply, well that's easy, I'm still packed from Nashville.  Let's go.

And that was the first (and last) time I'll ever exceed his expectations on how long it takes me to get ready.

We head over to the Grand Hyatt in Buckhead, at which point he tells me, it's your birthday, babe! We can do whatever you want!  Which turned out to be putting on my sweats and watching a movie on TV.

(Again, it must be a real treat to be married to me.)

Before we start the movie though, he informs me that he has to leave for a work trip the next morning, but that I get to stay at the hotel all day. He has arranged for me to have an in-room massage at 10am, and then tells me that I should order WHATEVER I WANT from room service.

(It's almost like he knows that room service, massages, and watching tv in bed are my love languages.)

(Oh wait.  He does.)

This is all especially sweet and thoughtful, because a few months ago, we had the following conversation, on a day where I was just mentally and physically exhausted:

Me:  You know what would be my perfect day?

John:  What, babe?

Me:  Just going to a hotel and laying in bed all day, while ordering room service and watching tv.  Throw in a massage somewhere and I'd be good to go.

(Yes, I realize that could not possibly sound any lazier. Keepin' it real over here.)

John:  Would I be there too?

Me:  Well, um.....maybe for part of it. 

(Disclaimer:  I love my husband, and generally want to be around him at all times. I don't know why I told him I would want him there for only part of it, because when he actually created my perfect day, I got bored about 10 minutes after he left, and wanted him to come back and enjoy the laziness with me.)

(For the third time, it's obviously a real treat to be married to me.)

(I don't know why I actually put this stuff in writing for the world to see.)

(Well, let's be honest.  For all 4 of you to see.)


Anyway, the biggest surprise of the night was when he let me open my birthday present.  Where I find this:

As I try to wipe the shock off my face, he tells me that we're leaving in less than two weeks.....which, WHAT!?

And now I'm in the midst of packing a suitcase that I could literally fit my whole SELF into, while worrying about how the French are gonna feel about my "Bonjour, y'all" attempt at speaking their language.

This should be interesting.