I turned 35 yesterday. I had all kinds of plans to pick H up from school and head into the city for fabric shopping at City Quilter, a trip to Books of Wonder to get this year’s Caldecott books, and maybe a stop at Marimekko to investigate a new raincoat for her.

But this was me instead.

Not 10 minutes before I needed to go get her from school, another (thankfully mild) round of stomach flu hit me out of nowhere. I was so desperately hoping it wasn’t the stomach flu again that I stopped to buy pregnancy tests on my way to H’s school (I am not pregnant, nor was I expecting to be).

I spent the day in bed, mostly asleep, with H either taking her own nap in her crib or hanging out nearby watching Wreck-It Ralph and Finding Nemo. It’s a bad day if we get through one entire movie, but two?

My plans with friends have been thwarted this year by an abominable winter and random happenings, and now my actual birthday was a bust. So, Adam told me we are rescheduling my birthday for next Monday, this one never actually happened, scratch it off the books.

I will report back on cake and presents at that time. Here’s hoping this isn’t a sign of the year to come, bah humbug!