Despite my best efforts to ignore it, today is my birthday.
I do not have a good track record with the anniversary of my birth. Ugly stuff seems to happen on this day.
There was the year that I was living with The Dead End Guy and he bought me A SINGLE cupcake because, “You have really gained weight and you just don’t need to have a cake around the house right now.” Who DOES that? Who buys one damn cupcake for someone?
What the hell was I thinking? Stupid girl.
There was the year I was supposed to meet my parents for dinner at P.F. Chang’s and they went to a different location. I waited for about 45 minutes, discovered my mistake and went home in defeat.
There was the year Mr. Boss filled my office (about knee deep) with balloons. Which would have been harmless if he hadn’t also planned a surprise party lunch (I hate surprises, especially the birthday variety), sent out an email blast to all of our clients asking them to call me and wish me well, and had two large dogs that spent the day breaking the damn balloons while I fielded the day-long barrage of phone calls.
There was the year my co-workers covered my desk with confetti. Cute idea, but it rendered my computer’s keyboard almost useless (confetti was lodged under a few keys, making it difficult to utilize the entire alphabet).
But the Queen Mother of Bad Birthdays was my 30th birthday. My grandmother had died very unexpectedly the month before. Everyone in the family was pretty much a mess. I was a bridesmaid in my cousin’s wedding (yeah, nothing like being a total spinster in a teal bridesmaid dress at 30). I was suffering from crippling jet lag after returning from the wedding when I returned to work, only to be LAID OFF!!
I burst out crying. Then I started laughing. I was laughing and crying.
I could not believe this was happening. I had become George Costanza.
I spent a couple of days in stunned, weeping misery. I wallowed in self-pity and then I realized how kind of awesome it was to be paid to not work.
Don’t get me wrong. I have had some wonderful birthdays.
Just days before my 39th birthday, I was lucky enough to marry Mr. Smith.
By the time I was 40, I was the mother of a beautiful baby boy.
And, just to keep thing interesting, by the time I was 41, I was the mother to a busy two year old boy and this little tea cake.
This year, we are all still sick. There was no special dinner or cake. Instead we got P.F. Chang’s take out, my choice. We had Sprinkles cupcakes (also my choice). I did not cook or bake a thing.
Tempers were short most of the day, due to fatigue and illness, but after the Little People were bedded down for the night, Mr. Smith and I absconded to the beach to watch/photograph the sunset.
No matter how rough the past birthdays may have been, I am lucky. I have every single thing I have ever wanted. As if that weren’t enough, I also have this to look at/snap pictures of, at the close of my first day as a 44 year old woman/wife/mother/daughter/sister/niece/granddaughter/aunt.
My blessing are many, and my complaints are few.
P.S. Hey, Dead End Guy! I have gained weight and you know what? I ate TWO cupcakes. Pumpkin Spice Cupcakes with Cinnamon Cream Cheese Frosting. And enjoyed the hell out of each one!