Mimi took a bite of the ‘happy birthday’ sign before I could cut the cake!

Another year, another birthday.

I was determined to keep this one low key, but I couldn’t help marking it. Somewhat literally. I got a word added to my tattoo. It wasn’t as painful as I remembered it to be the last time. But I started stressing that the guy was going to write the word back-to-front because when he put the stencil on my back and I checked it in the mirror, it read backwards (this is because in the mirror you see things reversed, but even after I accepted that explanation, I couldn’t shake the feeling that some awful error was taking place.)

This told me something about me. First, why did I give him the go ahead when I wasn’t absolutely sure? Second, why did I keep stressing in silence. Don’t be nice and stand your ground was the lesson I learnt while getting inked, and I kept questioning the guy about whether he could read it correctly when he was done. Finally, he took a photo of my back to shut me up. Heh.

I try not to tell too many people about my birthday, and I even went to lunch with a new colleague and she was blissfully unaware. However, in my Mandarin class, I had to admit it was my birthday because we happened to be learning how to ask the date and when your birthday is. Turns out my teacher’s birthday was yesterday.

I had ordered pizza for everyone for dinner and asked V to pick up the cake. I got home earlier than expected so I decided to buy the cake myself, but was disappointed to find that all the chocolate options were sold out. Messaged V to tell him I was buying it, and got a frantic call-back. Turns out that he had ordered one for me, and it was exactly the one I had been craving. Sometimes The Dude does get it right.

The day had a silly start. While eating breakfast, possibly because the topic of birth was ongoing, the kids started asking how babies are made, how exactly, but how does daddy put the seed in mummy. I have to say I became quite flustered because while I want to be honest about it, I really think that it’s too early to explain the actual act of sex. We managed to deflect the conversation which is really not my style. But I need to be prepared for the inevitable questions.

V asked me when we were going to bed if when I was in the twenties what I imagined a mid-thirties person to be, and if I fit the bill now. When I was in my twenties, I read Bridget Jones’s Diary and watched Sex and the City and they personified the thirties for me. I got married at 25 and I think I had my Bridget moments in my twenties, but yeah, I do think I’m a Bridget, Shazzer, Jude, Magda, Carrie, Miranda, and Charlotte if not Samantha all rolled into one.

Oh and also, I’ve been (re)watching The Wonder Years. Such nostalgia. There were words from this show embedded in my brain that I didn’t know were there until I found myself mouthing dialogues. But all, it’s really well made, depicting (the end of?) innocence in a time of flux.

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