Yesterday I was helping some friends unpack boxes of books and organize them on shelves in their new house. When I saw the book, Love you Forever, I told an 8-year-old that I hated that book, that it was the worst, and that it made me sick. I opened to the page with the grown man holding his withered mother in a rocking chair and I told him if my son Sam ever had to do that to me I wanted to be euthanized. I don't regret it.
I have no regrets this week. I turned 40, had a surprise party and got flash mobbed. I'm moving forward into the second half of my life. I used to have racing thoughts at night, go over things I said during the day with remorse, and painstakingly wonder if people took things the right or wrong way. Now I just take Excedrin PM, go to bed, and sleep the sleep of angels.
When I wake up I start blogging for Babble. Here's what I did over there this week, for your reading pleasure:
Some rules for turning 40. (You might want to get started now.)
Getting traumatized by a broken arm. (I was surprised by my own reaction.)
Legs come off? (The Pretty Darn Funny Folks turned this anecdote into stop-motion animation--It's less than a minute long, if you're short on time. )
The slideshow Christian and the kids made for my birthday. (This was BEFORE the flash mob.)
My schtick about Dove candy wrappers. (I know you feel the same.)
Why Women Still Can't Have it All. (This is the best one of the week. I thought Anne-Marie Slaughter's article was really thought-provoking. I'd love to hear what you think about it.)
That's it. I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always. Grossest book ever.