Lately, the problem with birthdays is that they are just so…yearly.
I always get philosophical on my birthday. You know, it’s another year on the planet. It’s a time to look back at everything I did or did not accomplish over the year. I’m lucky that I have a June birthday. It’s six months after New Years and I get a chance to reassess those failed resolutions from January. It’s like the midterm exam and I get to buy myself new notebooks and pencils for the second term.
Last year, I spent my birthday recovering from a bilateral mastectomy. On a scale of 1-10, I would place that birthday squarely in the 1 category. The only reason I wouldn’t make it a total zero is because at the very least, I had some serious drugs to keep me on planet-happy and was pretty busy watching every season of 24.
And looking back at these past few weeks, this year’s birthday is shaping up to be one of those real walking on the beach, philosophical, what-is-the-meaning-of-life sort of days.
But I’m not falling into that trap again. No siree.
Here is how I am spending my birthday this year:
I’m going to go see some mindless end-of-the-world destruction flick and I’m going to eat a Jumbo bag of popcorn with Coke. The real stuff, mind you. None of that Coke Zero crap. I’m going for full-out calories and sugar. I’m even going to go out for some ice-cream after and maybe go for a walk on the beach.
I’m going to get home and binge watch House of Cards. Or Scandal. Or finish up Orange is the New Black.
I’m going to drink some wine and toast to a summer of books, beaches, and tequila.
I’m going to kiss my kids goodnight, snuggle them in their covers, and thank God that I have another year. Another year to get pissed off, to cry, to laugh, to get frustrated and get inspired. Another year to celebrate my kids’ birthdays. To watch them struggle and succeed. To hear them complain about having nothing to eat in front of a fridge full of food. To hear their door slam when I take their phones away, or ground them. To hear them laugh and play in the yard with their friends.
I’m going to hang out with my husband and lay out in the backyard, taking advantage of the last breezy evenings before summer really kicks in. I’m going to hold hands and find fireflies and toast the midnight when the day ends.
It’s my birthday. And I’m done with the philosophy and the introspection. Done with the midterm “Where is my life going?” woes. I’m switching schools this year. Moving from the Ivy Leagues to the party schools. Cornell to UC Santa Cruz.
Because really, birthdays should be about blessings and wishes.
And I’ve definitely had a year full of those, regardless of the insanity that permeated the year.
So pass the cake. I’ve got some candles to blow out.