Cursor blinking | | | | |....waiting for my birthday wisdom? Well, if I'm no wiser this year, I am older. No getting around that one.
Not so wise would be just spending about an hour (+) working on this fabulous birthday post, and then carelessly DELETING it. Doh! I still haven't quite gotten this blog thing figured out. But besides that idiotic keystroke, the 36th anniversary of the day of my birth seems to be going pretty well.
Tonight's fabulous plans (cue Price-is-Right showcase music) include an all expense paid trip to the Spaghetti Factory! I'll be sure to wear one of my fabulous elastic-waisted ensembles, so as to best enjoy the gut-busting portion of Chicken Marsala and buttered pasta! Following this 5-star cuisine, my children and husband will surely woo me with their barbershop-quartet version of the traditional Happy Birthday song! Then...off to our suburban hideaway for Jen's favorite Dump Cake and a modest bounty of thoughtfully wrapped gifts and cards (All thoughtfully thought-of by my endlessly-thoughtful husband, Brian. Children will smile and hug and take undeserved credit as I open each one.). Then, after savoring the last morsel of my super-delicious, chocolate cake, I will pass out on the couch, reading the new novel my husband is sure to give me. Fabulous!
Honestly, at 36, I don't expect all that much for my birthday anymore. The birthdays of our youth are so exciting and memorable, and I think thats the way it should be.
My first great birthday memory was the Great Celebration At Age 3. Believe it or not, I can remember it pretty clearly. Mom made me an cute clown-shaped cake. I had a bunch of preschool pals over to party with me, and my Aunt gave me my first tu-tu! Toddler-iffic!
Then, fast forward thru the gritty home-movies of Jen's life, and we come to Birthday #13. For my introduction into the teenage years, my parents very kindly rented a woodsy cabin at the Hotel Hershey for me, and put on my first boy/girl affair. A six foot sub, a vollyball net, a late 80's soundtrack, and an overnight (girls only) at the Hotel was more impressive than any 13 year old could have expected. Rad!
My 21st birthday should have been the most memorable of my young-adult life. And it was, but not for the crazy-shot-chugging-dancing-all-night-reasons you might expect for that momentous milestone. No, my 21st birthday was spent nursing an IV drip at Maine Medical Center, flat on my back, trying to prevent my 7 month pregnancy from ending too soon. Abigail, even in fetus form, was already asserting her independance, and was doing her best to send me into early labor. Luckily, the kind and sympathetic nurses took pity on me, and brought me a bland slice of hospital cafeteria cake and the pharmaceutical wonders that stopped my contractions cold. We managed to hold off my tenatious first-born just 17 more days before she came into the world. Mommy celebrated 2 months later with her first LEGAL drink....after I'd given up my half-hearted efforts at breast feeding. Oh snap!
And now, the second decade of 2000 is upon us. This year, I started getting those kinds of cards that don't mention your actual age...but instead, have a cake with 100 blazing candles on the front cover. I heard (surely sincere!) things like "You don't look a day over ___ (fill in appropriately complimentary number here)!" . My kid's concept of 36 is alarmingly close to their perception of 66. And for another 2 full months, my husband will remain a fresh and youthful 33, while I age steadily ahead of him. Cradle robber!
But, it's all good. I'm having a happy day. I'm loving my family and my house and my friends and my books. What more could I ask for??
Well, maybe the energy to hit the club and down a few jello shots, but I'll be satisfied with just gettin' through another year being healthy and happy. Sounds good to me.
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