Happy Birthday to Me

I really don't mind my birthday. It usually feels a little better than the rest of the days in the year, but honestly, I'm not overly excited about it nor am I slitting my wrist over it. My husband is quite possibly the worst gift giver in the world though. Good guy, means well, but terrible gifter. Let me tell you how my morning went. I woke up this morning and shortly after, Emma came in my room. "Happy Mother's Day! I mean.....Happy Birthday, Mommy!" We hug, she is very sweet and really wants me to have a fun day. She makes me wait in my bedroom while she gets something ready in the kitchen. 30 mins. When I came out, she surprises me with all of her princesses lined up on the counter and all of her bday cards standing up open and leftover balloons from her birthday. It looks like a party. Then, it's time to open my present. She tells me daddy picked it out without her. It's obvious. It's a scale.

I have been trying to lose weight and have been saying I really want a scale. However, I wasn't so sure I wanted one for my birthday. In fact, I'm pretty sure I didn't. I text messaged Scott and said, "Thanks for the scale." He replied saying he'll give me the rest of my present later as Emma just wanted to give me something in the morning. Great. I'm expecting a Weight Watchers membership. Later...much later...he texts me again to see if I'm mad about the scale. No, not mad about the scale. Really, I wasn't. I did want one, I just thought it was kind of a weird birthday present. He agreed and tried to redeem himself by saying I really don't need it. Blah blah blah. I HAVE used it 4 times today and am amazed at how often my weight changes throughout the day. I've never had a scale before. Happy Birthday to me.