Happy places

I was replying to a comment on this post and made a reference to when I used to pick JC up from creche. I can't recall having blogged about it so I decided I would collect some of the happiest memories I have of JC's short life and post them here. As an antidote to the sadness of his death.

The unmentionable...

It's my birthday today. I'm 47. Time, I think, to start counting backwards to be sure I avoid the big Five Ooooohhhhhh.

Many of my birthdays have been average, even sad. My Eighteenth was the day I found out I was pregnant, my twenty first came only two months after my eldest son died. My Thirtieth was a massive joke. Husband was supposed to take me out for dinner but he couldn't leave work (as in he couldn't and still can't relinquish control) and then one of the drivers from the company he worked for managed to "invite" himself to stay the night in our spare room and intended to come to dinner with us. This was a nice enough man but he was not a scintillating conversationalist and he was not who I wanted around on my birthday. In the end my husband sent this driver and another employee over to our place to have dinner with me while he worked. We had pizza... It sucked...