First World Problems

Yesterday was interesting.

It started out with Anita and the kids showering me with birthday cards, congratulations and more love than usual. Then everyone left for school – Anita chaperoned Devina’s field trip – and I ran errands, read and wrote until they came home and Anita and I headed to Maya’s and Devina’s school for parent/teacher conferences. (On the positive side, we were informed that our children are still the best students in the history of the world. On the less-than-positive side, we had to spend time in the same classrooms as Anita’s ex who’s the most repugnant man I’ve ever known.)

On the way out, I bought some Girl Scout cookies from a little girl who was ingenious enough to set up a table directly inside the school’s front door – you’d think after all this time, Anita would buy some of my favorite Tagalongs instead of going exclusively with Samoas all the time, wouldn’t you? – and we returned home, grabbed the kids and headed back out in separate cars for shopping, more errands and appointments.

At one point, Bryant and I waited for Anita and the girls to arrive at the place where I thought we were supposed to rendezvous but they didn’t show up so we went looking for them (it was the first time that I questioned our decision to save money by discontinuing our cell phone service). I found them leaving Biggby’s but the line was too long and there was no time for me to snag an iced coffee before our next appointment.

After taking Bryant to get his hair cut and then dropping him off to visit his grandmother (who’s recovering from hip surgery), I found myself waiting in line at the Taco Bell drive thru (yes, my recently-announced commitment to vegetarianism needs strengthening), alone, ordering three hard tacos and a quesadilla for my birthday dinner.

I returned home, got online and was overwhelmed by more than 100 birthday wishes on my Facebook wall, from close friends and people I’ve never met, ex-girlfriends and pals from high school, former colleagues and kindred political spirits. I wiped my tears – there was sawdust in my eyes, I think – and swallowed my last bite of the ground beef-like concoction in my tacos just as Anita and the kids returned home with a chocolate pie and more birthday presents. My parents called from Atlanta to express their disbelief that I’ve lived so long, then we all puttered around online until the kids’ bedtime. Because I’m officially no spring chicken anymore, I retired to our bedroom earlier than usual to watch “King of Queens” reruns – that Doug Heffernan cracks me up – until slumber replaced consciousness.

I share all of this mundane information to paint a picture of how fortunate I am. My days may be harried and everything may not go as planned, but “First World” problems are good problems to have.