My Mom Divorced my Father on my 50th birthday…Or something like that

I’ve been writing all year about turning the big 5-0 and it’s finally here.

I’m sort of in shape (from all that walk-jogging), I’ve taken a few risks by changing jobs and trying to write a novel, and I’m still blogging (although a little less these days).

I figured today would be anticlimactic since my husband invited a few friends to dinner to celebrate last night. But noooooo-

First, I woke up to a Happy Birthday email from my favorite Mexican restaurant. We go there every Friday night so getting birthday greetings from Alejandro, Jorge, and Sal was like getting one from a family member.

Then my husband shared a bit of shocking news. I hadn’t even had a cup of coffee yet.

Him: “What’s up with your mom?”

Me: “What are you talking about?” Really thinking, “why didn’t you say ‘happy birthday?’ Alejandro and his friends already have.”

Him: “She texted me. It says, “No, no, no! I can’t take this anymore!’”

Me: “Oh my gosh! She’s divorced my father on my 50^th birthday!”

Him: “But, why did she text me?”

Me: “It’s my 50^th birthday! Hello?”

Me: “Wait, what time did she text you?”

He looked at his phone. “10:36 last night.”

Me: “Hmmm….Downton Abbey.”

I had warned her that things were too cheery last week. I told her to prepare herself. If there’s one thing I’ve learned from all those years of watching All My Children, it’s that when something seems too happy to be true, it usually isn’t. Or something like that.

So, I called her. She’s not divorcing my father. She meant to text me, not my husband. It was Downton Abbey and she’s refusing to tell me what happened. (I missed the show and will watch it right before Season 4 starts.)

So, crisis averted. I’m having birthday cake for breakfast.  And all is right with the world.

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