I turn 32 years old in just under two hours. No big deal, I suppose. But you know you’re getting older when it’s the day before your birthday and:

1. First thing in the morning, while turning my head like any normal human being, I snapped something. I had to get Hayley to sit and make sure Breanna didn’t throw herself off the bed and it took me almost ten minutes to get up, the pain was THAT bad. It’s a little better but I still can’t look completely left.

2. I’m seriously considering going to bed. The kids are asleep, George is exhausted, and I’m thinking my pillow sounds like a fine idea.

In other news, Breanna decided the day before my birthday was a great day to finally learn to crawl after so many flubbed attempts. I have a great video of it but YouTube is being putzy tonight and it’s taking forever to process so I can’t share it until tomorrow. Almost all day, when she wasn’t napping, she was either crawling across the living room in search of toys (especially Hayley’s “Lucky Ducks” game) or standing and starting to cruise.

What the hell? Who told her she could get teeth, learn to get up to a sitting position, pull herself up to standing, crawl, and start cruising all in the same month?

I haven’t decided whether all this mobility will make me extra vigilant, extra paranoid, or a raging alcoholic. All three sound appealing right now.

In the meantime, I offer up my proof that cookies will make any kid calm down.

(Just kidding, the bag was empty. Forget the kids, those cookies calm ME down.)

Also, note the HUGE bags under her eyes. Those aren’t bruises – they’re circles from not napping enough because who has time to sleep when there is crawling to do? Gah!

Good night. I need my rest for my birthday, right?