Today is my birthday. I am turning 36. It is the kind of age you might rather forget about, since it truly signals the short distance to 40 (but isn't 40 the new 20?). Just kidding. I would rather 40 be 40, since trying to be 20 for 2 decades sounds nothing less than hideous. But seriously, let's get back to talking about my birthday.
When I got up this morning I had breakfast with my family and opened a present, and a card and had "Happy Birthday" sung to me by a three-year-old. It was very sweet and went perfectly with my coffee, which I was drinking throughout. At some point, though, my six-year-old looked around and said, "But Mommy, where are the balloons? When is the party?"
It is with great happiness and contentment that I say I am not having a party for my birthday. At some point in life you realize that in order to have a party you have to either put out some serious effort yourself, or lay all that effort on to someone else. It is such a good feeling to enjoy a birthday without having to run out for balloons, bake a cake, have people over, you know the routine. I won't tell that to the kids just yet, because they are still in the lala-land of believing that all these things magically appear in the natural order of things on birthdays, and I don't want to spoil it for them just yet. But I am very much enjoying having a birthday where I am with all the people I love the most, having a good day (but no balloons).
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