Age... just a Number

I have hated my birthday for years.  I used to like my birthday.  There used to be a certain feel to a birthday.  Like the whole day was about you.  I know people who have birthday months.   My ex was never much of a birthday person, so I quit making a big deal out of my own.  I had four kids whose birthdays were all in the same month.  (New Year's Eve, in case you were wondering....I never drink Long Island Ice Teas any more as I think of them as pregnant juice)  The entire month of October was all about their birthdays.  Thank goodness they fall according to age, so I can remember whose is whose.  I was really good about keeping their birthdays separate, so they never felt like their day was not about them.  My boy's birthdays were a day apart, my girl's two days.  Weird, I know.  Four birthday cakes, four parties, one family party.  It was exhausting.  By the time my youngest' birthday rolled around, I was caked out.

Then came my birthday three weeks later.  My ex was as birthday'd out as me and it it seemed to me, he was always irritated by my birthday.  Don't get me wrong, I think he made an effort, it was just very low key, because of the timing of it.  He never wanted to celebrate his birthday, so I just kind of followed suit.  We were usually broke by the time our kid's birthdays' were over, so an expensive present was out of the question.  In those days, money was really tight.
My parents always came through and would buy me a coat.  I love coats.  My ex never, in 28 years, had to buy me a coat.  The only time my birthday was a big deal was when I turned 40.  Thanks to my mom, I had a big surprise 4-0 birthday party.  I kept telling everyone I wanted a party for my 40th, so my ex and my mom planned a surprise party.  As the time got closer, I knew they were planning something and I started feeling guilty about wanting a party.  I started saying I changed my mind and didn't want one.  Instead, I wanted to rent a limo and do a pub crawl with my brother, brother in law and my parents and of course, my ex.  He rented the limo and they blindfolded me and took me to a couple places and eventually we ended up at my surprise party they threw anyway.   The party was really fun and it turned out to be a roast.  I enjoyed it thoroughly.

I'm not really blaming my ex for how I started hating my birthdays, it just became unimportant because the kids were always the priority....as it should be.  But, then, as the kids got older and parties were less frequent, my ex decided to change his birthday.  Yes, he changed his birthday.  He decided he hated having a winter birthday.  He wanted a summer birthday, so he would throw himself a party every summer and celebrate his birthday.  I had no problem with that, except that it confused every one and everything.  His actual birthday was in the winter, and of course, my family and his still wished him 'Happy Birthday' on his actual day.  But, for the rest of us, we weren't sure if it was okay to bypass the winter one and not say anything or do anything, or wait until he decided which day he was celebrating it.   It was all very confusing.  Eventually, the kids just started celebrating both days.  It kinda became a problem.  Not because he changed the day, but because the kids made a HUGE deal out of his birthday...lots of gifts, cake, partying, speeches, laughter.  My birthday became obsolete.  The kids always called to wish me 'Happy Birthday', but we never celebrated my birthday.  I'm an adult, I don't want to lay guilt on my kids, so I suffered in silence and pretended I didn't care and that it didn't matter.

Last year we took a family vacation to Hawaii.  It was in the winter, and it just so happened that the kids arrived in time for my ex's real birthday.  It's not winter in Hawaii, so we celebrated his birthday with the usual big bang and made it a big deal.  I  made the comment that it was good to celebrate his birthday on the real day and not in the summer.  He looked up and said, "Oh, I'm having a birthday in July too..."  I think he was joking, but I remember sitting there, looking at the faces of all my kids, laughing and drinking and toasting their dad's birthday, thinking "My kids, have not been all present on my birthday in over ten years",  let alone bought me a gift, (well, sometimes they did) and the cards always came about a week after the date.  I was hurt.  I couldn't even speak.  My eyes welled up with tears thinking of it, and my oldest daughter, who is so sensitive, noticed.  "What's wrong mom?"  I pasted a smile on my face and said "Nothing....I'm just happy to be here with everyone..."

My birthday was a day to dread.  It was the day that pronounced yet another year older, another year sacrificing for everyone else, another year closer to being old, another year closer to death.  I hated it and started forgetting how old I was exactly, and then began lying about how old I really was anyway.  I looked younger, so I could get away with it.

Then this year, I left my marriage for good, filed for divorce and drove down to Arizona.   Right after my daughter's wedding,  right after all the kid's birthdays... arriving two weeks before my own birthday.
I made a decision.  And, decisions, have been hard for me this past year, but  I made a decision that I was not only going to celebrate my birthday, I was going to celebrate for two weeks.  Anyone that wanted to go out and buy me a drink, dinner, whatever, it was going to be my birthday celebration.  My mom, dad and brother , all made sure I got flowers and presents and cards on my day, I got the usual phone calls and good wishes, My daughter sent me a package...I had a great day.  The whole weekend was about me. And the next weekend.  I had birthday weeks.  It was so great.  I never told anyone how old I was, I borrowed a line from my friend Stacy and told people I was "ageless".  I still cringe over the number a little, but, regardless of how old I really am, it is just a number.

The real truth in all of this isn't my ex's fault how I began treating my birthday.  I could have stood up for myself and demanded the attention as he did.  I just didn't.  But now, I am going to celebrate every birthday with gusto and remind people again...that there are 340 more shopping days till my birthday....