31 years ago today my mom walked into her kitchen after waking up for the day.
Mom: “Dear, I’m having contractions and my water broke. It’s time to go to the hospital.”
Dad: “Ok. Let me finish my breakfast*.”
Mom: “Dear, I don’t think we can wait that long”
*Breakfast was a peanut butter sandwich.
Less than 4 hours later, I was born. My mom yelled at her doctor because he got his arm stuck in his gown. She claimed she yelled, “You had better hurry up and catch this kid because she’s not waiting for anything!” Or something like that. I was a bit insistent on getting out to see the world and then I spent most of the first few months just crying. That has to tell you something.
I’ve often had a love/hate relationship with regards to my birthday. It’s not that I necessarily hate getting older, but that the day is often unlucky for me. And thanks to my inner toddler I often raise my expectations of what the Husband will get me–a cat, a car, a surprise party, a yarn store, a small island. Then when I receive the actual gift there is only room for disappointment. “Gee, a box set of one of my favorite series of all time? Oh…thanks.”
This year, however, I chose not to play that game and instead waited for my gift with only a few thoughts about it. Okay, and only a few times of pestering the Husband. Apparently that works because even though nothing “spectacularly huge” happened it was truly one of the best birthdays ever. And I even weeded this morning so that really tells you how crazy I have just become. Of course, maybe it was good because I’m 31 and finally getting my sh!t together.
Now all that said, I did get a Wii from the Husband this year so feel free to call me a hypocrite. It’s just nice finally feeling happy on such a dreadful day. Now if only I can carry that through each day.