Birthdays have always been big in my family and I completely think they should be. I don't understand my friends who decide to ignore their birthday as if not allowing someone to wish you a happy birthday is going to make you any less closer to receiving the senior discount at the movie theaters. It is going to happen and while I have become more and more appreciative of the "ignorance is bliss" adage, this is one situation where it really doesn't matter. The way I look at it, your birthday is the one day a year people have to be nice to you...not like Christmas and other holidays where it is all about spreading good cheer and family love. No, this day is all yours to be a princess. Why wouldn't someone want that?! I think about this as I write a note to my sister who is turning 39 tomorrow. She has already given notice there will be no big bash for her 40th next year. And while my inner Martha Stewart is a little miffed she is depriving me of the occasion to entertain, in this instance I do understand. She, my brother, and me (for that matter) are still probably suffering from the aftershocks of my 40th celebration last year.
I turned the big4-0 just a few weeks after Alex announced to me on vacation in Maui that he was "confused" after seeing another woman for the past few months. I knew this had been happening but I was more confused as to why he chose Cheeseburgers in Paradise as the location for this little revelation. While family and friends were ready to commit me for my decision to give him time to get "unconfused", I had made a decision and now a big party with friends and family just didn't seem as festive as originally planned.
However, and I will always be grateful for my family's love and support, they decided I shouldn't celebrate it alone...especially since it falls right before Valentine's Day. I just couldn't bring myself to slink to my mom's as the woman scorned so my sister and I decided to meet with our families at my aunt's in the mountains. Winter had other ideas though, and after numerous phone calls and attempts to cancel the trip, we decided to meet at a hotel just out of the snow line. I figured it was at least a change of scenery and I just needed a break from the constant waiting for Alex to maybe fall, hit his head and snap out of his obvious temporary insanity.
My kids and I arrived, walked into the hotel and ran smack into my father and step-mother...3000 miles away from their home on the East Coast. The surprises kept coming and after finding myself in a room with both sets of parents, aunts, uncles, my brother and sister, I wondered if either I was dying and didn't know it, or they all decided me turning 40 while Alex was off celebrating with the 8th dwarf (yes, I did get a little catty about the entire situation) was just more than I could handle. While the celebration was truly special, any time you combine my mother, whose latest ailment had her in a wheelchair, green cast on her leg with, of course, a bright purple sock and my step-mother, dressed as always from Bloomingdale's in leather pants and silk shirt, there will be a recovery period required.
I obviously survived the big day, the big weekend and, eventually, the big decision to leave Alex with my pride still somewhat intact. I ponder this as I realize once again, birthdays are meant to be celebrated...not just to mark the passage of time, but to honor the steps you have taken to make it to the next year. I may not be where I expected myself to be at 41 but I'm right where I should be...
No comments:
Post a Comment