Happy Birthday to Me. Seriously, can we forget about it?

The girls made me a cake. Jackson helped as only boys can.

The girls made me a sweet card.

Bedazzling the cake because a plain cake just would not do for celebration such as this.

The cake was fabulous. Extra delicious. The kids insisted on celebrating correctly. I was selfishly trying to convince them to forgo the candle tradition until Ella sweetly said, while patting my back, "I know you are worried about how many candles Mom, because it makes you feel old. We'll just do one." She's already quite the negotiator. Then, because I feel that there should be some evidence that I exist on my birthday, I played with photo booth, while waiting for Robert to finish combing his hair. The following are the results:
I liked this picture because it made me look chesty. I think you should look chesty when you are as old as I am. It should be a law.

But maybe not so chesty when going for your Temple Recommend interview? We were late for dinner because the Bishop invited me to go to the Temple so many times. He must of thought I needed it. Note to self: Skip VS half-yearly sale next year. Extra minutes spent in Bishop's office instead of dessert bar at buffet NOT WORTH IT.