Happy Birthday

Yesterday was Lance's birthday (34). I really hate it that he is younger than me (35), but that's another blog.

Because Vivian kept us up again Friday night I was really tired all day (read: cranky) which translated into not being particularly sweet to Lance, although it was his birthday. I even suggested more than once that we postpone our dinner out so we could get to bed early.

But we did make it out, and in fact had a really nice time. We so rarely spend time together anymore, just the two of us. The food was great, the restaurant was beautiful, we had a nice intimate table in the back, and sort of found each other again. What I mean is: we actually had things to talk about, besides the snotty (literally) children. We talked, and listened, and laughed, and it was really great.

So great that I'm not even complaining this morning, even though Vivian of course kept us up again, and I have a hangover.

Happy Birthday, babe.