We were out of town for the Memorial Day weekend, therefor I did not have access to my calendar or my blog(s). But that does not mean I forgot your birthday.
Even though my husband programmed it wrong into his blackberry, and I called you the day before to sing to you because I sincerely believed it was the 29th, and you stopped me before I was half-way through the song to correct me, I did not forget your birthday. Every May, as we work our way through the girls' birthdays, I think to myself about how you always teased me that one of my children was supposed to be born on your birthday, but that I kept screwing it up and was doomed to keep having kids in May until I got it right. And it makes me smile. And I remember your birthday.
As long as I have children who were born this month (and I guess that's forever now, huh?), I will remember your birthday.
So. Happy Birthday. I love you. For so long you were like one of my own little brood. When you got married, I felt like I was sort of marrying off a daughter. But now, you're a wife, and you have kids of your own, and when you call and we talk, it's not the same. We are now peers.
It's different. I like it.
Also, I think you should have a kid on my birthday and name it after me. Lizzy refused.