It was my birthday this past weekend. Woohoo. Party time!
Not exactly! I HATE my birthday. I’m not sure why I dislike it so much, only that I feel uneasy about the whole thing. Once upon a time I saw my birthday as a celebration (like the normal people do) but I suppose as I have become older it doesn’t seem quite as exciting as it used to be.
I used to welcome expensive gifts and lavish plans; now I discourage them. There’s an internal battle as I question myself about just how deserving I am of receiving gifts or making plans. Can we afford to buy gifts and make plans? Do I really need any of these things? Should we get the carpet cleaned instead?
I eventually decide I am worthy of receiving gifts and plan making. That lasts for all of two minutes. I remember I scrolled through Facebook while Molly was playing with her Lego and that I didn’t take hundreds of pictures. Such a bad mummy! I so do not deserve a gift or night out.
My family hate my birthday as much as I do. In fact I think they dread the occasion every year. Not because they hate me and want me to be miserable, but because of how weird I get about it.
I want a nice gift, but I don’t want a gift. I want to make plans, but I don’t want to make plans. They ask me for weeks in advance what I want to do and I tell them I don’t want to do anything because my Birthday is a none-event. Then, as the big day approaches I feel really sad that nobody wants to do anything with me for my birthday.
I’m weird/awkward/a pain in the arse/stubborn… They can’t win.
I’m rambling but what I am trying to say is that the whole birthday thing makes me feel uneasy. The sensible mummy in me says that we should save all our money, time and efforts for a more fitting occasion – like other people’s birthdays. I have no problem at all when it comes to other people’s birthdays. In fact, I go way over the top planning for their big day. I have been planning Chris and Molly’s birthdays, which are in April and July, since the start of the year. But not my own!
Anyway, fast forward to the big day. I was finally making plans with Chris, my sister Danielle and my brother in law Danny (yes, they are the Dannys). We were all baby free until the next day so we could go wild if we wanted to. We could even go to a rave or whatever these youngsters do these days. But, we are grown-ups with responsibilities so decided we should probably make plans more fitting of our age.
We caught a tram to the big city (Manchester) and went for a nice fancy meal and posh cocktails. It was lovely. Not rave like at all.
It was nice being out in adult company with no signs of screaming toddlers anywhere. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss my screaming toddler though. We spent a lot of the evening talking about our kids.
I felt really old too. Everyone in the bars seems to be really young these days. No comments about my age please Danielle…
In the end we just wanted to go home. Well, we caught the tram back to sunny Oldham and had a drink in a local bar. Then we got a takeaway because our fancy meal didn’t fill us up.
We had a really good time but for my next birthday I might just get a takeaway and have a good old game of Monopoly. Surely there would be no fussing or weirdness in a plan like that…
Am I the only one that doesn’t like their birthday or the only one who thinks of it as a none-event? Please tell me I’m not the only weirdo out there…