I might be feeling a little bit sorry for myself.

Today is my birthday and I had to work. That is nothing to complain about, most responsible adults work when their birthday falls on a work day. But then on my way home from work, after retrieving two of my three children, my mini-van malfunctioned and we were stranded.

A good friend rescued us, we retrieved my third child and made it home. Richard arrived shortly after and insisted that we still go to dinner. Dinner was good. As good as dinner at Red Robin with three kids five and under can be.

But then Richard had to go figure out something to do with the broken car while I put three very cranky children to bed, and now I’m alone. Pretty sad, huh?

We saved the birthday cake for tomorrow. The kids were too tired to really enjoy it, and frankly they were more excited about the whole birthday thing than I was. A sign of my age I suppose.

Twenty-nine. One more year to be a “twenty-something” and then I really need to grow up. Twenty-nine with almost four kids. How about that.

Well, another birthday in the books. Thanks for the calls, texts, emails and FB messages. I’m sorry I wasn’t much disposed to answer them. (And then there is that stupid phone of mine…)

At 8:00pm on Valentine’s Day I stood at the sink doing dishes. The kids were all in bed but Richard hadn’t even left work yet.

Since Cameron didn’t have school on V-day we had spent part of the evening putting together his valentines cards for his class party. I thought back to Valentine’s days of past. I laughed as I recalled my years of elementary school where the valentine selection was pretty much the same, simple paper cards. If you were lucky your mom bought the candy hearts to go inside, and occasionally the rich kids put something even better in your bag. I remember individually selecting the candy hearts with words that I wanted to say to each classmate, saving the most romantic ones for my crush and wondering if he would even notice.

Many valentines have passed since then. Some have been full of amorous infatuation. I have only one unmarried coworker who is 20 and in such a relationship. Today she received a large bouquet of lilies. They were beautiful and the rest of us married women fawned over them while she blushed.

After work I fed the kids cereal for dinner and decided to ask Richard to pick up something on his way home from work for us to eat. Around 8:15 when he called to ask what I wanted, we discussed.

Me: I want a hamburger.
Richard: What kind?
Me: I don’t know… I never get hamburgers.
Richard: Okay. What else?
Me: Fries and a drink.
Richard: Okay.
Me: Very romantic.
Richard: We’re so old.
Me: I’m so pregnant.

Earlier in the evening when I picked up the kids from my in-laws I told my father-in-law to enjoy a relaxing and quiet Valentine’s Day with his wife. I told my co-worker with teenage daughters to go out with her husband, just because she could, because she could do so without having to call a babysitter or even feed her girls who were perfectly capable of doing so on their own.

I have no complaints about this stage of life. Well, except that my sciatic nerve hurts and those lilies smelled so good I wouldn’t have minded getting a bouquet of my own.

The family dynamic around here is constantly evolving as family members come and go. Days when Cameron is home from school are energetic, loud, even frenzied. He and Eli play well together, but their play involves a great deal of commotion and activity. And naturally there is more conflict between children and between child and mother. As I mentioned before, when the boys play together Miriam is content to just be nearby, not directly involved but in close proximity.

On days when Cameron is at school the house is mellow, quiet and idle. Eli plays alone in peace, without the demands and instructions from his older brother. Miriam naps longer because of the calm atmosphere, giving Eli hours of alone time. It wouldn’t be quite truthful to say that Eli and Miriam play well together. I think they are still sorting out their relationship. Miriam feels a little more confident trying to be directly involved in the play without Cameron around, but Eli doesn’t want her there. In a passive-aggressive way Eli does his best to quietly remove her from his territory. She resents his efforts, either because her feelings are hurt or because she is just fiesty enough that she doesn’t want him to touch/push/pull her in any way.

(Richard pointed out today that there is only one “morning person” in our house, and it clearly isn’t either of these two. Nor is it Richard. Or me.)

While I get frustrated with Eli’s bullying of Miriam, it is fun to watch them interact. He obviously loves her, while still coping with a little jealousy I suppose. I am desperately trying to enjoy these last few weeks before the dynamic changes again in a considerable way. I will miss my time alone with my littlest people.

Meanwhile, I will try to keep my children from destroying entire forests by having only one tic-tac-toe game per piece of paper. I tried to demonstrate better use of space, we’ll see.

Every once in awhile one of my children surprises me with something I was unaware they were capable of. One night while reading scriptures Cameron asked if he could read by himself, and read he did!

At first I was proud. But then I was overcome with embarrassment and humility that he had learned this skill without my knowledge or assistance. It made me realize what greater things he could accomplish if I made better efforts with him at home.

Tonight he brought my this little paper. He said it is his birthday list. I suppose he means it is the people he wants to be involved in his “buthae.” The balloon is to remind us what the list is for, he says.

There is just so much sweetness in this little paper, I’ll keep it forever. It is the first time, I’ve observed, that he has written words by sounding them out (birthday, Miriam). It also expresses who he cares about most. Forgive the cheesiness, but I’m glad to be his mom and I’m glad he has a family.

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I am not intending to argue that one gender is better than the other, I don’t believe that. But I must admit this video left me feeling totally deserving of all the sympathy and admiration we women get after going through childbirth. It must be said that I have had an epidural with all three of my children, so more power to those who do it naturally. BUT I am 100% confident that before receiving an epidural or during windows of time when the epidural didn’t work I endured more than this brave fellow. If you have the 10 minutes it takes to watch, let me know what you think.

According to the Urban Dictionary a social recluse is someone who voluntarily removes themselves from social situations or society altogether. I’ve become one. It is interesting that I have, because I wrote in my journal on December 28th the following quote from Elder Russel M. Nelson.

“Each day of your life strive to enlarge your own circle of friendship.”

I fear that I have done the exact opposite and every day of my life since I wrote those words I have decreased my circle of friendship. Sorry friends.

I’m not sure why this is. Nesting has taken over and I have become slightly obsessed with things like organizing closets, cleaning carpets and yardwork (in January?!). It might also be related to the fact that none of my clothes that fit me and are comfortable are acceptable in public.

Even Richard has been converted to my anti-social mentality and we spend our weekends together just the two of us reading books or watching movies after the kids go to bed.

I’m not sure what to make of it all, except that it really is exactly the opposite of what I want. Or maybe not, maybe what I think I want isn’t actually what I want…

In any case, next Tuesday I get to board an airplane by myself and enjoy a long flight of quiet time across the country. Then I get to spend three full days with a dear friend in the sunny (hopefully) state of Florida. After which I will enjoy another day of quiet travel without hearing any whining from a five year old, losing my patience with a three year old or picking boogers out of the nose of a one year old.

Perhaps I’m saving all my social juices for my trip. Maybe I’ll return a new and more friendly individual.