What sucks? My birthday. That's what sucks.

Today is my birthday. Generally, I like to think that birthdays are celebrations--I try and stretch mine out for a week... OK, month. It's all in good fun, right?

Except today. Today sucked, with gusto.

It started at 6AM. I've been an on again, off again runner all summer long. And don't let me fool you by saying "runner." I run, but I'm certainly not qualifying for any races anytime soon. Even the short ones.

Anywho. Running. Woke up at 6, procrastinated a bit, went to the gym (Because of the rain. Let's just talk for a minute about how uncooperative the birthday weather was). Treadmill #1 didn't work quite right. Half my warm up, wasted on a treadmill that won't go past 2 mph. Treadmill #2 works... or so I think. I'm up to my brisk jog... and one shoe comes untied. How do you pause this thing? Um... you don't. You stop and start all over. Grrrr. Back up to my brisk jog, and guess what? Shoe #2 comes untied. As the hubs said, I felt like I was in kindergarten.

So by now I've stopped and started just enough to be slightly aggravated, and to consider the workout null. I didn't last long after that.

Quite frankly the rest of my morning wasn't bad, had I been able to get some work done. Yep, I have a million jobs on deck and nothing in the creative hopper. Oh, also? The toddler was home most the day. Oh, and also? The middle child had a half day, and a playdate coming over this afternoon. The toddler did not nap. The playdate was fine, but loud. Work didn't get done.

Dinner, I'm exhausted. Birthday dinner was Boston Market, because I'm creatively spent, and can't think of anything better. Plus, the mess is minimal. As a result, now I'm also thirsty.

Stress is like, completely building up throughout the day, I'm sad my day hasn't gone even remotely well, and I'm tired. God, I'm tired. I reach for a Mike's. Can't get the top off. Take out the stupid bottle opener, open the bottle, and of course, spill. Not a lot, but guess what was the straw that broke the came's back?

My swearing/slamming leads to fighting with hubs, kids. There's a lot of crying. Hubs' patience is lost. He's done. The kids are upset. I'm upset. Hubs is upset. I try to calm the kids down. Which is a joke, because I can't stop crying. Oh God, I hope their therapist is a good one.

Now I'm off to go apologize to at least the hubs, who I hope doesn't completely hate me for being an out of control ass. There will be more crying, on my end.

God, this birthday sucks.