My birthday is coming up this Thursday. Don't worry - I'm not fishing for gifts. In fact, that's one of the problems I'm having: my husband and mom are pestering me to tell them what I want. So far, I've come up with the following things that I would really love from my husband:
1. A birthday cake with blue icing for Ragsy
2. Something chocolately and hot for me with vanilla ice cream
3. Time - time to take a workout class, if only for once a week, at the Y after I've recovered from childbirth and the baby is about 3 months old or older
4. Help - someone to help us keep the house tidy once or twice a week, backing off to once a week to every two weeks after we've gotten into a routine
I suspect I'll get 1 and 2, but my husband is confused by 3 and 4. Ah, well. We'll see. My birthdays don't mean nearly as much to me as they used to. My last truly wonderful birthday was when I was 30, just before Ragsy was born. Adit threw me a surprise party at a friend's house. Actually, that was the best birthday I've ever had. Subsequent birthdays were more trouble than they were really worth - you know, when you feel obligated to have fun because it's your birthday, but you have other things on your mind, such as a sick kid, crying kid, a parent who insists on visiting every birthday, preventing you from doing anything other than what she chooses.
Last year, I wound up dealing with a two-hour tantrum, being late for work, falling in the parking lot once I managed to get to work, then spilling coffee all over my already-wet pants and having to do my work standing up until my pants dried, only to go home to have to make dinner and get into an argument with my mom (who was visiting) when she said something particularly thoughtless to me. So at this point, I'd settle for tolerable. But most wonderful of all would be me having a new baby. I'm not convinced this thing is ever coming out, and I can't wait to meet him or her. Earlier I didn't want to share my birthday with someone else, but I think that would be nice. Knowing how much I enjoy how Ragsy reacts when I do something special for him, no matter how small it is (like him dancing for joy the first time I took him to a bakery), if I could have that on my birthday most years, or even have a year of firsts every year, that'd be enough.
2 comments:
I understand about the birthday thing. I am not a fan of Mother's day, for similar reasons. Mostly because it gets usurped by the family as a whole, and I get dragged to a big restaurant meal (which stopped being relaxing about 2 kids ago, and is even less so when the group is huge and has two additional toddlers added), and don't get time to just have a little time and space and brainpower of my own. It's distressingly hard to think when someone says "Mommy" every 30 seconds :P
Anyway, Happy Birthday. Here's wishing you a beautiful newborn, something hot, choclatey, with ice cream, and time to rest (in whichever order you prefer)!
Yeah, birthdays hold little of the appeal that they used to. It's nice that people think of me and try to make the day special, but beyond appreciating the thought and maybe something sweet I didn't have to make myself, the idea of sitting in a restaurant and wishing that I had a few extra arms is less fun than advertised.
What would be really fun is an hour of quiet to write, a lazy Sunday morning that didn't involve having to get out of bed immediately upon waking or even just not having to make all the household decisions for a day. You know, not having to inform of what was to go on the table, how to cook it and when and who gets what, not being the keeper of the knowledge of what's been done or needs to be done and delegating it... Just coming home one day and having everything decided and done and out of your hands, regardless of how it got done and who did it. Now THAT is bliss.
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