Birthdays are all the rage these days.

He did it, folks. He went and turned 30 without a hitch. Well, aside from his birthday falling on the same day as finals. Which it has done EVERY year, consequently. A shame, really. And I thought I had it bad since my birthday's in the summer—so I didn't get to bring cupcakes to class. I was always so jealous of the kids who got to bring cupcakes to class. But I digress. This post is not about me. Because I am NOT 30 yet.

I don't think I've ever seen anyone function on so little sleep as Tom has this week. Bravo, Tom Thomas. I assure you that is one thing I could not do—I turn barbarian when I'm sleep deprived. I have this foreboding feeling, though, that as soon as his last final project is finished tomorrow his brain is going to explode and his body is going to completely shut down and he'll hibernate for an entire week, and well, there goes Christmas.

Well anyway. This morning Clara and I hid behind the birthday streamer passageway of wonders and were going to jump out and surprise him but then Clara spoiled it by casually saying "Hi" the minute he opened up the front door. Way to go, Clara.

Then we enjoyed Sensuous Sandwiches for lunch, because, it's our fave. I mean, have you had Sensuous Sandwich? I dare say I enjoy it more than Port of Subs. (All my Vegas friends just gasped. I could hear it.) So anyway. Tom enjoys the Tantilizer but I didn't get that for him today because I forgot and when I asked, "You want the Sensuous?" he nonchalantly replied "yes" while furiously animating an opossum, and it was only after he was eating it that he said, "Didn't you get the Tantilizer?" Way to go, Seas. And Tom.

When Tom returned home from school he informed us that he didn't want to sleep because it was his birthday. Instead he joined us watching Tangled. He even secretly took a video of Clara and I, with our eyes glued to the TV, drooling over Flynn Rider.

For dinner the birthday festivities continued with homemade pizza, homemade salad, and non-homemade mint chip ice cream. I served Tom's with a candle on top, and then serenaded him with the most charming version of "Happy Birthday" I could muster. I pretty much went solo, because Clara wouldn't sing at all. Way to go, Clara.

Then I thought I'd get a head start on his cake for our Saturday night festivities. I thought I'd be cool and make this Chocolate Mousse Crunch cake because a: it looks absolutely amazing, and b: it didn't look that difficult. But alas, I've already managed to screw it up because the cakes wouldn't come out of the pan. Of all the things I thought might go wrong—including oven fires—getting the cake out of the pan was not one of them. Apparently, baking is just not my thing and I should probably throw in the towel. But instead I'm sitting here eating Tom's birthday cake out of a pan because he doesn't want any because he just informed me that he has a horrible sore throat.

See what I mean? Body shut down is already taking place.

So the moral of the story is: Turning 30 is pretty rough and should only be done by those who are strong of heart. Or so I hear. I mean, shucks, what would I know? I'm just the young age of 27. But if I may speak for my husband, I'd say it was a half decent day. As far as birthdays-on-finals-while-sleep-deprived-and-sore-throatish goes.

Happy birthday Tom Thomas. I think when it really comes down to it, Clara and I drool over you a lot more than we drool over Flynn Rider.