Can We Work It Out? Can We Be A Family?

Finally, a wish comes true: after literally waking up into an argument with J, I set out to find a cool dark place to hide and sulk, and just a scant three miles up the road I discovered that our nearest neighbors have satellite internet and a wireless router. I traded them two bottles of some really horrid wine I'd been given as a well-meaning gift for the unlimited use of their basement rumpus room, and now less than eight hours after I thumbed my nose at civilization I have my feet up on a cushioned hassock in a carpeted room drinking tea with real ice in it. So I'm a hypocrite, right?
The argument was over the fact that it is my birthday today. I actually swallowed my considerable pride and called D's house to very humbly ask to have the kids today, and was soundly rebuffed and hung up on. I was actually expecting her to grudgingly say yes, and getting shot down - especially like that - sort of shot my enthusiasm for the day. So, I helped Paula and Katherine and Brad cook an extra big breakfast (bacon, fresh caught fish, skillet cornbread and melon), did some of the dishes and went back to bed for a little while. I haven't been able to sleep very well lately, so I took a benadryl and actually dozed off for a bit. Less than forty minutes later J was looming over me, saying over and over that I'd promised we would all go swimming before it got too hot but now nobody wanted to go because I was pouting in the tent and why the hell did I have to go and start a fight with his mother first thing this morning, anyway?
Now, when I go to sleep naturally and have at least an hour or two under my belt I can spring right up and be wide awake, but after about forty four hours awake and twenty five milligrams of diphenhydramine I think I can be excused for being a little testy upon being woken in this fashion, wouldn't you say? But no: I am being a dick for not following the script everyone has prepared for my birthday, and that's a direct quote. I have further ruined everything by telling the kids to go swimming without me because they really wanted to hang out with me on my special day. Now, maybe it's just me, but can anyone else feel a slight ironic twist to my son scolding me for ruining my birthday for everyone else?
Screw it, I never wanted to get this old anyway. HB came back from town just as J was really winding up. He had a bag of groceries in his arms, and he came and gave me a kiss on the cheek and wished me a happy birthday, the whole time watching J stomp and shout and windmill his fists. I must say, the look on HB's face did me tons of good: he managed to work startled and amused and indignant all into one small Mona Lisa half-smile.
"Did you forget to pack his condoms?" HB whispered to me after a few minutes, and I made the rather large mistake of snorting with laughter. J stopped in mid rant, gave me an icy look and went into his cabin. He still hadn't come out when I left. I know he's just feeling angry and helpless because he wanted me to see the kids today almost as badly as I did, and he's torn between being mad at his mother for being an unrelenting bitch and at me for egging her on all the time and at both of us for being unable to settle the whole damn stinking mess like adults. Fine: he's justified on all counts there.
So I went for a long walk with HB, and discovered my neighbor's internet connection, and now I will try to get my mind serene enough to write the post that came to me this morning when I first woke up, when the world was green and calm and heartbreakingly beautiful and my stupid fucking life hadn't started haunting me for the day.
Enjoy this summer, people. It's beautiful, and it's fragile, and (at least here in the Big Woods) it will be over before you know it.

Title lyric from "Family Portrait" by Pink.