I’ve never been a fan of my birthday.
You’re probably thinking, YEAH RIGHT! But it’s true. I’ve never been a fan of it.
For a long time I assumed I wasn’t a fan because of the aging aspect that comes with it. Another year older… not getting wise but getting wrinkles isn’t exactly fair in my book. I mean, you can take the good (getting wise) with the bad (wrinkles) but if you don’t get the goods do you really have to suffer through the bads?
Food. For. Thought.
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Growing up my birthday sucked, and that’s stating it nicely. I was born on Christmas Eve. My mom has never let me forget that since I decided to come out early, she was forced to spend Christmas in a hospital. Sometimes I think she forgot that’s where I had to spend Christmas too.
I don’t remember my birthdays in Colorado very well. I remember some of the gifts I received but when we actually celebrated, I can’t remember. When we moved to Minnesota, I didn’t get to celebrate my birthday on my birthday. My dads family had their Christmas on Christmas Eve so most years, we’d wake up early on my birthday, drive two hours and celebrate an extended family Christmas then drive two hours home. By the time we got back to our house, my birthday was over. Over the years, I’ve spent quite a few of my birthdays in tears.
Birthdays, to me, should be a day YOU are celebrated. It’s the day you came into this world and YOU are here for a reason it should be celebrated.
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One year, my birthday was overlooked. No one remembered. I spent the entire drive home in silent tears wondering if there was a surprise party at our house…there wasn’t. But my mom was livid. She swore that she would NEVER make me go to a Christmas party on my birthday again. The next year, my dad and I went by ourselves. We leisurely strolled up north, stopped at a mall to shop a little, and grabbed some lunch all before making it to his family’s Christmas. No one even asked where my mom was. They ALL knew she was boycotting the day they had the family Christmas. She asked throughout the year for it to be the week before or after or even on Christmas Day, but no one listened so she stuck her ground and didn’t attend.
When my dad and I got back home, my mom had made a HUGE dinner. She had the fancy plates out and served steak, lobster, twice baked potatoes, a salad and carrot cake. It made me feel really special, because I knew that she did it just for me. That was the last year, my dad and I went to his family Christmas. Maybe he saw a look in my eye when we got to my special dinner; and realized my mom was right. Christmas could be held on a different day.
Since then new tradition has upheld. My dad picks me up on my birthday, takes me on a shopping date, we go out for lunch and then he drops me off. I pick up my family and we drive to my parents where we have steak and lobster.
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In my 35 years, I’ve never once had a friend over for my birthday. After my old friends and I turned 21, they would meet me late at the bar for a couple drinks before last call. Other than that, this will be the FIRST year I’ve had a friend over for my birthday and I’m pretty excited about it!
Bash has already made me a birthday gift, a birthday dinner (a mushroom, cheese and lettuce sandwich paired with some water in a fancy martini cup) and he also sang me his birthday song while holding my hand!
Lijh, he’s made me some birthday art and a card! I’m sure his chef skills are coming.
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As my 35 year comes to a close, I can’t help but feel as special as I did that year my mom boycotted Christmas. My little men are doing everything in their power to make me feel special and their dad isn’t being to shabby himself!
The only thing that could make this year a little better is if I could trade some of the lines for some kick ass wisdom!
Much Peach, Love, and a VERY happy birthday to ME!
<3 Jes xoxo