Today is my 33rd birthday. I like to think of my birthday as my own personal new year. Less champagne and expensive cab rides and more reflection and cake. Last night I spent 3 hrs gardening; 1 hr actually mowing the lawn and 2 hrs of power washing, which is quite possibly my new favourite activity. Then I watched the True Blood season premier and the entire second season of the United States of Tara… just because I could. Then my 1 year old twins woke up at 7:30 in a shockingly good mood. I nursed them, left them for my husband to feed breakfast and slept in. We went out to one of our favourite restaurants for lunch. 1 year old twins at a fancy place is always a bit of a risk, but they did great. As long as we kept plying them with baby mum mums and pizza, they managed to keep the screaming to a minimum. It was the first time that a waitress treated us so disdainfully for having kids and they would not visit our table. So we managed to look like assholes leaving a small tip and a big mess.
My twins just turned 1 and I was set to go back from maternity leave when I got laid off. By voicemail. I shit you not. The news was not unexpected because no one can quite say what my boss is getting up to at any given moment, but we know that it’s not working. But throughout the layoff, HR and my boss continued to fuck the whole process up in surprising and complex ways. After my birthday lunch I had to go and turn in my signed severance agreement and my laptop. I was a little excited about getting my office stuff back. I have always been a person who makes her office a home away from home and I was going to relish in the treasures I had forgotten about. The HR representative handed me one small box, which contained one grocery bag full of stuff including: another empty box, a sponge, business cards and a box of paro wax. Seeing those contents, you would really wonder what I do for a living, but I assure you the sponge and paro wax have nothing to do with it. The paro wax was actually a gift from my former cubicle neighbor, Luke. The contents of the box were disappointing on the level of getting too-small underwear for Christmas. As I was packing up the kids in the van I threw the box across the parkade, hulk style. I instantly felt better.
So that’s where I am at at the age of 33. I am officially a stay at home mom to my gorgeous twin sons. This is what I wanted to be, for now. But it still bothers me that I am also a person who gets laid off by voicemail and is the subject of a huge HR clusterfuck. Cake will probably solve this problem though. Cake drowned by wine. Even better, my husband has offered to go get thai stuffed chicken wings, which are little pieces of artery clogging heaven. I figure that’s as good a way as any to start a year of figuring my shit out and enjoying all the goofy things that happen in life.