make happy
Birthdays are weird. There's all this pressure to have a good/happy one, so if you don't you feel twice as shitty because 1) you had a crappy day and 2) it was a day you expected to be good. I used to hate my birthday. Small town Catholic dynamics made sure that my parties were large and loud. I typically ended up hiding under the dining room table and crying. When we moved, the 'small town' aspect was gone, but birthday parties were still big things-- themed events. Camping, luau, starlit night... I had 'em all. I hated them all, ultimately. If my 'friends' party didn't upset me, the 'family' party (really a Labor Day party where there was cake for me) undoubtedly held some horrible moment. I would hide in my room and cry, then be reprimanded for being ~antisocial.
As an adult, nobody gives a shit about your birthday, which is pretty awesome. There are no crazy expectations. 31 and 32 were probably my best birthdays, due in no small part to the existence of my nephew. My immediate family goes out for Indian and ice cream and it's just... relaxed. No fuss. Just holding Bean and letting him blow out my candles (he is an EXPERT). The thing about being 33 is that now I'm *officially* over the hill for someone with my medical conditions. It's not a scary thought, just a strange one.
Today is not my actual birthday. We had to put off celebrating until today because there was a death in the extended family. Suicide. He was only in his 40s. I didn't know him and he didn't know me (it was that sort of "oh yeah that's X he totally looks like Y anyway where are the appetizers"), and when I say "extended" I don't know how to clarify it. My cousin's cousin? My other cousin's brother-in-law? My second-cousins' uncle? Mom's best frien's nephew? My godmother's best friend's nephew? Someone Mom knew when he was a kid? Our families are so enmeshed that we're just one family. Small town Catholic dynamics, as above.
As an adult, nobody gives a shit about your birthday, which is pretty awesome. There are no crazy expectations. 31 and 32 were probably my best birthdays, due in no small part to the existence of my nephew. My immediate family goes out for Indian and ice cream and it's just... relaxed. No fuss. Just holding Bean and letting him blow out my candles (he is an EXPERT). The thing about being 33 is that now I'm *officially* over the hill for someone with my medical conditions. It's not a scary thought, just a strange one.
Today is not my actual birthday. We had to put off celebrating until today because there was a death in the extended family. Suicide. He was only in his 40s. I didn't know him and he didn't know me (it was that sort of "oh yeah that's X he totally looks like Y anyway where are the appetizers"), and when I say "extended" I don't know how to clarify it. My cousin's cousin? My other cousin's brother-in-law? My second-cousins' uncle? Mom's best frien's nephew? My godmother's best friend's nephew? Someone Mom knew when he was a kid? Our families are so enmeshed that we're just one family. Small town Catholic dynamics, as above.