It’s my 32 birthday today and I woke up with an eye infection. In both eyes. I’m trying hard not to read into this and take it as an omen that this year is going to suck sweaty monkey balls. All this means is that I’m plagued by thousands of germs and in no way has any bearing on what my future holds.

Right????

As I stumbled, very bleary eyed, into my kitchen to brew some ambrosia coffee, I called my children to get their asses out of bed.

“Wake up!! It’s momma’s birthday! Come and make me some breakfast and be my little minions before I ship you off to school.”

Instead of being greeted with warm wishes and hugs from the darling creatures I gestated, delivered and have spent the last eleven years chasing after and feeding, I was greeted with horrified gasps and nervous stares.

“Ewwwww! What is the matter with your eyes? You look gross. Freaky,” muttered my son as he tried to poke at my infected eyes.

Slapping his hand away, I turned to my daughter hoping she would overlook the freak staring back at her and remember my birthday.

“Mom! That is just disgusting! You’re not contagious, right? Please tell me you aren’t going to pick us up at school today, looking like that.”

“Gee, thanks guys. Good to know my bright red eyes aren’t noticeable. Now come and kiss me happy birthday.”

Funny, they took two steps backwards. Chuckleheads.

“I don’t want to get what you have. But I really love you, Mom. No matter how you look. As long as none of my friends see you looking like that,” said Fric as she went to grab the card and gift she had carefully made for me last night when she was supposed to be sleeping.

“If I hug you can I touch your eyeballs?” said Frac as he reached out like E.T. phoning home.

“Only if you want your finger to burn off into a pile of ashes and then walk around with red eyes for the rest of your days,” I countered.

“Nah. But I’ll give you a kiss, Mom.” How gracious of this child of mine who was at that very moment ingesting food I had provided for his consumption.

Leaning in for my kiss, he ducked so he would avoid my diseased face and picked up my hand and kissed my knuckles.

“Gee, thanks, Frac. I’m overwhelmed with love,” I said dryly as he was scrubbing his mouth with his sleeve.

“No problem Mom. I love you. I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well on your birthday.” Aww, my icy heart was beginning to thaw.

“Is it okay if I bring a couple friends over after school so they can see your eyes? I can’t wait to freak them out with my creepy mom.”

Story of my life. It’s a great start to my 32 year. Happy freakin’ birthday. Literally, in this case.

Now I have to go find myself a doctor willing to treat this side-show. And buy myself a big-ass cake.