Metal Meredith

I swear I left it right here a few years back…

Wednesday is my birthday. I will be 33 years old. I am neither afraid of turning 33 nor excited. I am pretty apathetic about the day in general. It didn’t used to be this way. This has me asking, where did my birthdays go?

When I was little, my Mom made this a day last forever. Better than Christmas, your birthday was the most special day of the year. After all, you were the only one born on that day (which I wholeheartedly believed until I was 6 and met Young Bin Yim in Elementary School, who shared my birthday).

By high school and up until I met Phil, I would have a birthday week. I started the Monday before the day and celebrate through the following weekend. That gave enough time to see all of my friends and all of my relatives and get presents from everyone. Sometimes, we were lucky enough to get a present weeks afterward!

When I met Phil, I was lucky to have Ronni in my life. During Phil’s breaking in period (which all men go through – I am not picking on you, promise), I had Ronni reminding him and making sure all the things I needed were present; balloons, cake, gift, card, flowers (sometimes), etc. For years he never forgot more than one thing in that long list. Then, the change happened.

Sometime in the last three years, thing changed. I got pregnant with Vivienne and it all went downhill. I stopped reminding people that it was my “Big Day”. I stopped feeling like I had the right to a whole week. After all, time wasn’t going to stop so I could have a nice, relaxing day. With all of my focus on the family, I simply forgot about me. My big day really became the “It’s alright, not a big deal” day. Sad, isn’t it?

This year is no better, but with the knowledge of how I got to this point, surely soon I will celebrate in style again. I am thinking that by 35, I should have time to reclaim my birthday as the most special day of the year. But for now, I will have to settle for an hour or two.

Happy Birthday to Me!
Meredith