I said in a previous post that I was going to discuss why my birthdays suck. I was going to whine and complain, name names, and leave nothing out. But now it's been a week and I've moved on. I guess at this point in my life it's not about me anymore.
I know we're all shocked. At this stage my life is lived for my girls and my family.
Growing up as an only child my birthday was almost a holiday. My mom would put it on the local bank sign and the world would revolve around me. I'd get flowers or balloons at school and that day we'd go eat at my favorite restaurant. When I got married I inherited a family that doesn't do birthdays up big. The first birthday I had as a Mrs. was spent at the Flying W Ranch in Colorado Springs, one of my favorite places on earth. The lead cowboy starting mentioning who all was there to celebrate their birthdays. I wasn't named. That's when it started.
This year I spent the day doing stuff for other people. The whole day. Oh, and getting yelled at a few times. I spent four hours sitting at my old high school across from the office. In the back of my mind I thought how wonderful it would be if I had balloons or flowers delivered to me. When that exact thing walked in the door I was almost teary. Then a cute 17 year old got them.
Oh well. At 11:15 that night I finally got to sit down and enjoy some ice cream. My birthday treat.
Okay, so I whined a little bit. But I'm sure you all understand.
Anyone else out there feel the same way?
And just so you don't throw a pity party for me, on Sunday evening I got to pick one of my favorite restaurants for dinner (my choice was based entirely on good french fries) and it was followed by Pink Swirls for dessert. (A live culture yogurt bar) I got all the gifts I'd asked for, crossed the finish line of a wonderful 5k that morning, took a three hour nap, and was surrounded by family that loved me. So maybe as you get older you just celebrate it when you can. Again...sigh....