There are two kinds of people in this world: the ones who think all birthdays should be celebrated, and those who ignore birthdays.
The former get a flash of childhood glee as they approach the anniversary of their own birth. They countdown to the day, awake excited to greet a new year.
The other might enjoy some birthday attention but if no one remembered that would be okay, too. They think that birthday celebrations are for children or perhaps an occasional, milestone party would be ok but keep it low-key.
The former are walking around in a cloud of party glitter on their birthdays; the latter are walking around pretty much the way they always do.
I am a former.
My husband is a latter.
Several years ago I decided that I had reached a point in life when waiting for people (my husband) to throw me a birthday party simply wasn't the right strategy. The family members who were picking up the celebratory slack needed to be given a reprieve. It was time for me to take charge.
So I threw my own party. Well, sort of. I planned a meetup of members of a local message board on the weekend of my birthday.
And it was awesome.
To be fair, "threw" is a bit of an exaggeration. Everyone picked up their own tab at a restaurant that was kind enough to let us hang out there for several hours.
It was so much fun, we did it again the next year and it sort of became a thing- Susan's Birthday Party Lunch.
But we missed a year, last year I was visiting my family in Connecticut. I got to spend it with the guy who followed me out the door- so to speak- my twin brother, and my parents. I did things that I had never imagined doing. It was a very, special birthday.
|I got to give myself a double chin on the ferry to Martha's Vineyard in late January|
|I got to shovel the snow off the decks of my parent's boat|