Birthdays

Let’s get real for a minute. Those who know me best know that I’m not crazy about birthdays. The aging isn’t the problem, it’s all the birthday stuff. All the pomp and circumstance junk and hoopla—it doesn’t come naturally, probably never will.

And, here’s my real issue with my birthday. Every year, I fall into the “all about me” trap, which, for a self-absorbed-prone person, is dangerous. At the onset of the day, if the fairytale birthday scenario isn’t playing out in my home, than I’m immediately disappointed, and there’s this little voice in my head that says, “This day sucks. Who can I blame?”

Well, duh. The person I can blame is ME. Ouch, did that realization hit me like a ton of bricks this morning around 8:00 a.m. Hello, Susan! You’re a mom, you’ve got a fifty-point list that needs addressing STAT! Yikes! Let’s go!

Here’s what I do love about birthdays. Once the self-absorption is stuffed into the drawer (next to pity and sulking), I can sit back and think, awesome, I am still on this ride called life. And it’s just plain awesome. Much doesn’t go as I would like it to, but a whole lot sure does, and I’m just grateful for today, and I hope you are too.

And, don't feel sorry for me---there's a decadent steak in my future this evening, as well as a weekend away with my husband. Yes, life is good.

And how about this blog? I’m not doing a great job with it lately, and am at a bit of an impasse with it (more on this soon).

I’ll do a quick March update in a few days, but for now I’m going to enjoy some cake with Ave!