Last week, I had a birthday. My birthday has always been somewhat anticlimactic due to its proximity to Christmas. I’ve never minded this. Only in the last 3-4 years have I started to really NOT like my birthday. And I thought I was being a debbie downer, but I think I just got REALLY adult in those years. The most I hope out of a birthday is that my kids give me a hug and hubs lets me get a nap in. This. Is. Glorious.
In my 20s, birthdays meant an “all you can drink wristband” special that started at a (now) obscene hour like 10pm and lasted until 2am. It included my all time faves, Bone Thugs, Eminem, and BSB. What. In. The. Actual. Heck.? It was always fun from what I recall, but good lord, what did I do for those 4 hours? (DON’T answer that) If I leave the house past 10pm now, wait… I don’t think I have left the house past 10pm in the last 5-7 years. Target closes at 10pm, and I turn into a pumpkin way before that, so holy heck, 10pm- to START!?! Not only that, I would go out to a 7:30pm dinner at some place that did not have some sort of hat or balloon collection at the front kiosk for kids. I doubt any of the city places I considered “birthday dinner” places even had high chairs. For reals.
Once we left the city, we moved to the burbs and spent time and money doing adult things like yardwork, backsplashes, and regular laundry. Going out became a rarity. No one wants to go to the local Chili’s at 9pm to mingle. At least I don’t. Wait…. I do. But I’m just too damn tired.
A couple of years ago at my former job, my birthday happened to fall on an institute day/the first day back to school after break. Great. No one would be the wiser and I could for sure get through the day spot free. Well, a newer employee of mine decided it was her duty to announce it to the entire (200 person) staff at the assembly that it was my birthday at 7:30am. I still shake from this. I wanted to crawl in a corner. Although she likely meant well, I wanted to knock her upside the head and give her a piece of my mind. But I didn’t. I was pregnant and nutty to begin with so I just ate and drank my weight in diet coke, popcorn and cheez-its in my office alone. Visualize that. Thank the lord for my soul sister S, who has been my sounding board for WAY longer than she signed up for. #4yearslater
This past birthday was a wonderful day. Not because it was my birthday, but because it was a GOOD DAY. I got hugs from my kids, a nap, grocery shopped without S & B, and had dinner at a place where adults go to eat EVEN WITHOUT CHILDREN! Though, I did spend a few hours at a super dumpy car dealership where they blasted techno music the ENTIRE time, it was worth it in the end! (We were REALLY desperate for the minivan at this point!)
Do birthdays end after you give birth? Or after a certain age? Or am I crazy? I don’t know the answer to any of these questions, but I do know that good days are unicorns. When it comes down to it, we are far luckier to have GOOD days than BIRTHDAYS.