What About a Card?

When Brent and I were getting ready to have children, we said to each other, "Why don't we have all of our children in the first six weeks of the year, right by our birthdays, so we can be broke for four solid months from November thru February?" So we did. Isn't that cute? Jensen's birthday is Jan. 17, Brent's is Jan. 20, mine is Jan. 21, Dalin's is Feb. 5, and Cassie is Feb. 6. (Shaina missed the party and was born on Mar. 26. She feels extremely slighted.) Anyway, that would be why I have not stopped shopping since December 1. So I never thought I'd say it, but I'm sick of shopping. If I have to go to Hollister, Aeropostale, or American Eagle again in the next six months, you will probably find me lying in a psych ward somewhere with my hands over my ears (Hollister music), a death grip on my debit card, and babbling about a pull-over vs. a zippity-up hoodie. Although that fantastic smell in Hollister just keeps me coming back for more. . . .
We have been counting the days to Jensen's birthday because this year, well, she can count--one of the drawbacks of a child getting older and smarter. So tonight at dinner she said, "Mom, when is someone going to send me a birthday card? There's only two more days!" To which I replied, "I'm sure you will get one soon" (or something lame like that). And my sweet little almost-five-year-old said, "But I've told everyone!" . . . .which she has, by the way, from the cashier at Old Navy, to the little boy named Zach in the play area at Deseret Book (she invited him to her birthday party), to the secretary at the high school. So she wonders, where are all those cards? She even picked one out for herself today and had Laurie buy it to give to her. Poor child. She never gets any attention. And by the way, we didn't really plan to have our birthdays all in the first quarter of the year, it just happened. For those of you thinking it might be fun, it's a really bad idea.