I love my birthday, lots. In fact, I tend to dedicate the entire month of October to myself. For four solid weeks my outlook on life is a lot more shiny, my mood is chirppy, my energy high and I’m just an all around fabulous person to be around. I buy myself things, small things, things I would usually talk myself out of any other month of the year, believing them unnecessary, impulsive or silly, now suddenly these things are completely justified, cos ”fuck it, its my birthday month”, so into the basket you go you nonessential rose gold stapler, and you, risky and out of character nail polish cos OMG if there’s ever a time to buy a nail polish called “Bad Bitch” its your birthday month. Having said all that, ironically enough, I don’t like to make a big deal of my actual birth-day. I’m not loud or in-your-face about it. I don’t want big parties, big announcements or big fuss, but I don’t want it ignored either. Everything low key, a cake, candles (blown out by the kids obviously) and thoughtful cards is plenty.
But last week in the lead up to the official day of my birth, The Husband organized some pretty amazing surprises. A surprise that included the arrival of my older brother from Ireland. The day after that, buried under a bunch of balloons the size of a mini cooper, carrying an oversized bottle of champagne was my best friend, also flown in from Ireland. I was absolutely gob smacked, mortified, embarrassed but a little delighted by the effort and fuss everyone had gone to. What I believed was going to be a quiet dinner for The Husband and I to mark the occasion, had suddenly turned into something a lot more special. And I couldn’t have been happier. Getting to spend the weekend with some of my favorite people, recieving thoughtful e-mails, text messages and shout-outs on Facebook, toasting my existence in the world, these moments were everything. Happy Birthday to me!
After our special Friday night dinner, that was for the grown-ups only, I wanted to spend the rest of the weekend doing things that included all of us. And since Halloween is just around the corner and we had yet to get our traditional Halloween pumpkins, Saturday we took ourselves off to the pumpkin farm.
I know 2 little boys who are happy to see some big orange vegetables.
Straight to work picking the right pumpkins.
An ambitious choice by Cullen.
Slightly more manageable choice by Keane.
Cullen in crisis. Trying to carrying his truck, a baby pumpkin and a bigger pumpkin. The pumpkin & truck struggle is real.
Daddy to the rescue.
The pumpkin farm is not just about pumpkins, there’s lots of other fun activities. Keane was a fan of the tunnel slide.
Cullen was more into the the pump-ducks. Not 100% sure what to do initially, he spent the first few minutes observing Derv in action.
Now he knows and now he’s ready for his turn.
He got a little impatient with the pumping, apparently it didn’t move the ducks quick enough, so he found a bucket and started pouring.
With the lads tearing off in different directions, Derv was left taking care of the wagon.
A shirt change for Cullen due to a water soakage at the duck-pump. Putting his truck to work carrying baby pumpkins.
Cullen dictates the pumpkin choices from the comfort of his wagon.
Another family photo.
Family and friend.
Anyone for a tractor ride?
Cullen utilized the corn hole platforms as a ramp for his truck.
Want to know what its like to be a hamster? Then get yourself into one of these Roly-Poly tubes. Major fun.
Keane had it mastered pretty quickly.
Me on the other hand.
Finally getting some momentum.
Smiling, but my thighs were burning something awful.
Someone’s having the best time.
Derv gives it a go.
But gets herself in a situation.
Keane finds himself upside down.
The brothers captured in a driveway moment.
One last go of the pump-ducks before we leave.
Leaving with quite the load.