There’s something about birthdays. Mine, to be precise. I used to loooove them. Who doesn’t? My parents used to make birthdays so special. I even had ::whispers really quickly in embarrassment:: a quinceanera (Mexican sweet 16, but 15). ALL. OUT.
I honestly don’t care that with each year I’m getting older. I really don’t. I mean, I do in that way that means another year has passed, and well, that’s scary. But not as in the oh my gosh don’t tell people how old I really am, kind of way. Because seriously, what are you gonna do about it? With age comes wisdom. Really.
I guess birthdays aren’t a big deal. I love getting the wishes from my dear friends and family. It’s nice to feel loved. I know the ones who truly know me and care won’t forget. I happily wait for the “happy birthday” song sung by my dad. I love seeing the texts on my phone.
Despite a lovely day, another year to celebrate life (and give thanks to my parents), I can’t help but remember.
It was 2005. I was working admissions at my law school after taking the bar. I loved it. I waited. And waited. And waited. She never called. I started to worry. I knew it. I knew it. She is really sick. She’s not gonna beat this. She never forgets my birthday.
I cried. I was scared. I don’t even think she called me till after work. I’m not sure what time it was. It was probably after after a long train ride home. It was the last birthday.
Never a good way to start the morning.
Then there was Ava. Oh, “spirited” Ava. She has been so much “fun” this weekend. I really didn’t need any more rain on the birthday parade–maybe I was just extra sensitive to it all. Then I thought back to my mom and dad. Geez. Sorry if I ever put a damper on either of yall’s birthdays. I really hope I never did, but I probably did and I’m sorry.
I just wanted a weekend of great behaviors, kids who sleep in, long naps, relaxing, and fun. Well, mostly I got that. J took us out for a delicious breakfast at Cracker Barrel. I can’t resist the temptation of biscuits, gravy and home cooking. We walked, we wandered. I watched in awe as Allie sat in a big girl high chair and ate up hashbrown casserole like she did it every day. Ava sat like the big girl she is and watched something on her iPod till her food came. how are they growing up so quickly?
Being a parent is tough. It changes things on so many levels. Birthdays. Memories. It makes you think about things in so many different ways. It makes you appreciate every little thing. Birthdays aren’t for me. Not really. They’re to celebrate my parents. They’re to let my babies celebrate me. And that’s good enough for me.
Some day it will be easier. But on this 32nd, it’s the same as the last 6.
But it wouldn’t be at all without them. Thanks mom and dad. Love you both, tons.