Welcome to NaBloPoMo Day 6, where the theme du jour is Birthdays! Don’t forget to read yesterday’s post, where I talk about how jealous I am of my sister-in-law’s very ripe cervix. How’s that for a non-sequitur?
November is my Birthday Month — no wonder I love it so much. (And yes, forget birthday weeks, I’m all about birthday months).
This year I am turning 32, which sounds just so old to me. But then I think about the year I turned 12, when I ugly cried because I was sad about how ancient I was. So maybe with a little perspective, I can appreciate that when I turn 52, I’ll also feel like that sounds pretty old. And I’ll laugh back at my 32-year-old self because I was actually so young back then.
Honestly, I’m quite tempted to feel sorry for myself on my birthday this year. Because I’m going to be spending it so very, very alone. I’m introverted, and shy, and awkward, and most of the time, I don’t even care. But there’s something about birthdays, at least for me. As much as I don’t want to be noticed in general, I do secretly always hope people will make a big deal on my birthday.
But alas, I’m alone in a new city, taking my sweet introverted time making new friends. No extended family within hundreds of miles in any direction. So all of my birthday hopes fall on my husband. My poor husband who is in the throes of his intern year. My poor husband who is working six or seven days a week. Who leaves the house every day at 5:00 a.m. and doesn’t get home until 7:00 or 8:00 p.m. Yeah, that husband. I don’t expect much from him, but it’s a bit of a bummer that we won’t really get to spend any time together. Maybe I can I count on my two-year-old and my 11-month-old for some birthday love?
I guess the good news is, no adults will be around to witness my annual birthday face-stuffing. I’m going to shot-gun an entire pizza, Liz Lemon-style.
And as I’m eating my way through my feelings, I’ll try to remember that a birthday is just one day in a year full of other days. And that year is just one year in a lifetime full of other years. So what if the actual Day Of is kind of underwhelming? It’s been a good year, and it’s been a great life.
Until next time,