Just Another Year Older

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January 26, 2013 by trixiec67

25Jan2013 002

Remind me why birthdays are supposed to be so special.

Is it the 10,000 calorie slice of cake?

Is it the useless gift that your significant other bestows on you because he’s totally clueless when it comes to what you like or want or even need?

Or is it the amazing joy you receive when you get the absolute, most precious card ever made by your nine-year old son because he has no idea how old you are and he shaves ten years off your age and makes you ten years younger than you really are? No age defying serum or cream in bottle can do that! It can only come from the wonderful naiveté of your darling child, which on most other occasions you would like to tie him to a pole in the basement for his obnoxious behavior.

Unlike your better-half, (and I use that term in the most loosest sense of terms) who totally forgot your birthday and didn’t even say “Happy Birthday” until he saw the cake on the table that you went out to the bakery to buy yourself, insuring that you would enjoy it. This is because you picked out the flavor of the cake and went to an actual bakery as opposed to the grocery store. Hey, if you’re going to shell out the bucks, you may as well get a cake that tastes like cake and has frosting that doesn’t taste like gritty kindergarten paste slapped on it.

So…no cake from the family. No gifts either. I pretty much figured I wasn’t worth that much. So when I was out the week before picking some essentials for the house, I rummaged through the clearance that was still hanging around from Christmas. This is yet one of the advantages of being a January baby. I found myself some warm comfy pj’s, showed ’em to my twelve-year-old daughter and said, “Here, give these to me for my birthday.” I left them out. She didn’t touch them. So I just took them and washed them. I did wear them for my birthday. woo-hoo (Note the sarcasm.)

My mother, God bless mom, handed me some cash rolled up in a wad and said, “Here, Happy Birthday.” This was in front of my brother. So I just took it, said thanks, gave her a kiss and shoved it in my purse. My sister sent me a card with a check in it. Then she called me on my birthday. Can you guess we’re not the closest of sisters? My girlfriend from high school came by the house before she had to go into work, which was pretty early, dropped off a tray with cupcakes and snack sized bags of Butterfingers, which my children quickly devoured after school. The Butterfingers, of course, not the cupcakes. She also had a lovely card with a great message inside.

Geez, ya think my family could have given me even a little something as a token? Something like this, and said, “Hey look mom we found what you’ve been missing. Now you can put them back in your head!”


Remind me again why birthdays are so special.


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