In 12 days, I’ll be 34. Blah. I don’t really care about the number. I feel anywhere from 16 to 76 most days, so being officially another year older doesn’t really change anything about my life.
Normally, I make a pretty big deal about my birthday. Yea, I’m obnoxious about it, but why shouldn’t I be? Why isn’t everyone obnoxious about their birthday? It’s the ONE day a year that is all about YOU. Anniversaries have to be shared. Holidays are celebrated by everyone. But unless you are a twin (or triplet. Or a Gosselin), your birthday is YOUR day. I say make the most of it.
I’m not totally selfish. I try to make the most of others birthdays, too, if they want me to. For years, I did the exact opposite of what Paul wanted to do for his birthday, all in the spirit of celebrating him! Finally, I realized that he wasn’t being humble when he said he didn’t want a party — or any more surprise parties… whoops — and didn’t throw him one this year, but it hurt. Not that his birthday is about me…
Anywho. Maybe it’s from being an only child (ok, most likely it’s from being an only child), but I’ve always liked to do something really fun for my birthday. The fact that it’s 3 days before Christmas makes it more challenging, but I’ve never used it as an excuse. People always say “Aw, it must suck to have a Christmas birthday… do you hate it?” Hell no, I don’t hate it. I love it.
As a child, at least in my experience, having a holiday birthday heightens the excitement. All the decorations, all the music and lights… those all mean my birthday is coming! Well, mine AND Jesus’s, but his celebration is covered. It adds to the build up and the experience. There is a rule, though, for holiday birthdays, no matter the holiday. Unless the child specifies, do NOT group the two together! Do NOT wrap my birthday present in Christmas paper. I wouldn’t do that for you if your birthday was in, say, March. (I don’t wrap presents, actually, so regardless of when your birthday is, your present would be in gift bag from Walgreens.) So just because a person has a birthday on or near Christmas, Halloween, Easter, Thanksgiving, or any other holiday with a decorative theme, does NOT mean you get to get a two-fer out of the deal. So don’t even go there.
I have to say, though, as much as I love birthdays, namely my own, I’m just not feeling it this year. Paul keeps asking me what I want to do, and I keep changing my mind. Part of me wants to gather up my friends and hit the town for dinner and drinks in nice clothes (nice clothes = no baby food stains or nursing bra). Part of me wants to have a nice dinner out with just Paul. Part of me wants to get together with some friends and family and the kids and hit up a cheap and early dinner. And still another part of me wants to just stay in, order take out and eat cupcakes.
I’m not down in the dumps about my birthday, things are just so much HARDER now. A night on the town means a sitter, my mom, typically, which is fine except I like to celebrate with my mom. And anybody else that would be a sitter, I’d probably rather them be with us. Plus, a night out on the town means a late (late for us, which isn’t that late) night, which means a tired mommy and daddy the next day, which kinda sucks.
If we go out with our friends and our kids, it would be an early night, which is a good thing, but it would also probably be a giant damn mess, and nobody would be able to carry on a conversation because there’d be 87 kids dropping food and needing to go potty and the waitress would hate us and none of the women would get to eat (you know it’s true) and it would be annoying.
A date night out with Paul is always awesome, but for birthdays, I like to celebrate with a crowd typically.
So then there’s a fun night in. I can con Paul into picking up dinner and doing the dishes, I’d spend the evening with my short list of fave people, and it would be no fuss, no muss. But is that exciting enough? Sigh. I’m ridiculous.
What’s a girl to do? I dunno. Maybe I should say screw it, and go to Vegas with 30 of my closest friends, family and kids, hire a nanny, get the “Rainman suite” and call it a day. Who’s in?