Birthday Expectations

My birthday was yesterday. Birthdays are a bit of a burden as I get older. Like somehow when asked how I spent my birthday, I feel the weight of birthday expectations – definitely a day to be spoiled, most likely a nice dinner, some sort of expensive gift, the list goes on. And what if my day really consists of a happy birthday wake up song from my adorable husband and even cuter kids. Of which, I don’t think the 2-year-old even gets the concept of birthday but he happily “sang” along. The song was followed by hugs, dropping kids off at school, a bit of work, going to the chiropractor, driving around marking off errands from my to do list, getting a ticket for not stopping at a stop sign, picking up kids from schools, helping with homework, playing with kids, cooking up Taco Tuesday, attending a 2nd grade performance and finishing off the day with scary movie, immediately followed by Disney shorts to balance out the scary feelings.
Maybe it’s the obvious – that as I celebrate a birthday, it also means I’m getting older. But that has nothing to do with the actual day of my birthday. I mean, things like my back screaming in pain at me sometimes, my knees and ankles acting out or my ears performing less effectively these days don’t just pop up all at once at the same time each year. Don’t even get me started on my eyes, those have been in steady decline for some time now.
Of course, I could just be getting caught up in the bigger is better. It’s a “bigger” day, so that must mean it should be better, right? I’m not saying Breyers Ice Cream and 2nd grade performances aren’t better, but they weren’t exactly created to celebrate my birthday. Sometimes, the answer to the birthday question doesn’t quite do it justice. How do I possibly explain that though on any given birthday the usual answer to what am I doing that day can seem uneventful, possibly lame, there really is more to it? The day was peppered with greetings and birthday wishes that always remind me, gifts are great, but amazing people are better. That alone is a pretty spectacular way to celebrate a birthday.
And then there’s my husband, yes, he is sending me to Denver to enjoy a photography workshop. Yes, that is pretty awesome. And yes, he wrote a poem to accompany the gift reveal. Does it get any better? Truthfully, we don’t always go big or go home. On my 30th and 35th birthday’s I was hugely pregnant and though my husband offered to take me out on the town, I opted for good food and an early bedtime. I may or may not have requested a homemade cake. Like a homemade box cake – the horror! I’ve forgotten all my birthdays before the kids because really, did life even exist before them? I kid, I kid. Of course life existed before our kids, it included a heck of a lot more sleeping in and 0 money spent on babysitters.
So expectations and aging bodies be damned because I am surrounded by amazing people of which I celebrate most – this guy.

Because really, poems that rhyme and include references to travel, photography, boobs, and narcos are truly beyond expectations.

And everyone should be so lucky to receive an amazing poem on their birthday, like this one.