"Me" Day

I am a birthday freak.  I like to make a fuss over people on their birthdays because I think that's how it should be.  Everyone gets their own special day, so it stands to reason they ought to be made to feel special on that day. This isn't like Christmas (don't get me wrong, I'm not bashing Jesus' birthday by any means), when everyone tends to feel special on Christmas morning- perhaps even a bit entitled-  (flashback: 10 years old sitting by the Christmas tree and counting gifts to make sure I wasn't getting "gypped."  Sad, I know).  Jesus had a birthday, and we all run out to the malls spending hundreds of dollars on gifts to give each other.  Some gifts are thoughtful and others are "pressure" gifts- you know, the ones you have to have on standby because inevitably someone that wasn't on your shopping list will give you a gift (*dang-it!*) and you will feel guilty for not giving them one, so you either scrap something together last second (re-gift, maybe?) or have the "standby stash" ready....absolute absurdity.  

Alas, I digress.   Birthdays are different.  In my opinion, it's the one day out of the year a person should feel a bit of entitlement- it is, after all, the day your fabulous self made an entrance into the world.   It calls for a bit of celebration: cake (and let's not leave out candles!), perhaps a lunch or dinner at a favorite restaurant, a little guilt-free shopping spree (if you're the shopping type), a last minute decision to stop for that favorite latte,  maybe a manicure or pedicure or some other form of pampering...(can you tell that I'm the indulgent type?)  A few years ago, I started joking that my birthday should be called "Me Day" (much to my husband's chagrin), and it just kinda stuck.  I still call it "Me Day"- more because I like to watch Jake roll his eyes in disgust.  Jake is at the opposite end of the spectrum when it comes to birthdays.  He wants no special attention whatsoever, could probably care less if there's a cake waiting for him and heaven forbid you put candles on it and actually sing to him (his face becomes a deep shade of burgundy).  He always tells me he doesn't need or want anything for his birthday, but I'll have none of that.  Meanwhile, if I tell him I don't really want anything for my birthday, he knows that I'm lying through my teeth and that there's actually this pair of shoes/handbag/spa day I've been thinking about.  But I will not let him get away with the "my-birthday-is just-like-any other-day" attitude.  I will make a fuss over people- even more so for my husband.  He just has to deal with it.  (A little birthday embarrassment never hurt anyone).

That being said, my birthday was a bit anti-climactic this year- but not because I didn't feel loved or celebrated.  I had so many birthday wishes from family and friends, an afternoon without teaching lessons and going wherever the wind blew me, lunch with a good friend, a special visit to the hospital to meet our good friends' baby boy who decided he wanted to share "Me Day," a birthday dinner with Jake and his family....it really was a fabulous day.  I'm even going to have a spa day this Friday with a good friend of mine for a little third trimester pampering (my birthday gift from Jake).  But even all of that seems to pale in comparison to the *other* birthday I'm counting down to.  Heck, screw my birthday- I'm ready to celebrate this little bug's arrival!  Yeah, you think I make a big fuss over people now...just wait 'til it's my own baby's turn.  It would probably surprise no one if I even insisted on having some celebratory cake in the room after the baby is born (this Momma's got to eat too)!   So the countdown is on...my birthday, Jake's birthday....Junebug's birthday.  

I am very aware of the fact that I will soon be holding the purpose for which I was born and I can't wait...