Sometimes I Am Such a Big Baby!

A week from yesterday will be my birthday. I have been saying I am 48 for some time, now. I guess, once I reached a certain age I just needed the extra time to get used to saying the number. I am more than officially pushing 50, I have my front half leaning in, while my back half languishes in my 40's, resisting the decade that marks half a century.
Every year my birthday would roll in amongst proms, graduations, retreats, all kinds of busy. Every year I would say the same martyred, tired Mom speak of, "That's OK I don't really need anything. You don't have to bother..." I would emotionally crap on whatever was coming my way. In my head I would think, "It's too much bother, my age doesn't make a difference, we could save the money and get that new coffee pot we have been wanting..." I describe that as tired because that is what I made my family when it came to having a celebration for my birthday. By the time I was done bludgeoning them with all the insignificance of the day, they would walk around zombie-like, unable to process what they were supposed to do. If they did absolutely nothing, they would be considered selfish, if they celebrated anyway, they would be scolded for not listening to my wishes. I pulled the ultimate girl card. I made it impossible for them to win, or break even, for that matter. Regardless of what they wanted to do, I made sure they got it wrong.
I admit that is my least precious trait. I think all women have it genetically imprinted on their psyche, just how to make a situation into a no-win one. This is something I have been working on, this birthday fiasco, I created for myself. I celebrate everyone's birthday for practically a week, but when mine rolls around, I can't seem to get it right...until this year.
This year, I asked for everything. I don't expect anything, really, not because the family doesn't care, but because I gave them all kinds of options and now I just can't wait to see what they come up with. Packages have been delivered, secrets get whispered behind my back, lists are being made...I tell you, I am very excited about seeing what they have come up with. Michael asked me what I wanted for my birthday meal. "I want steak, grilled onions and mushrooms, a leafy green salad, ooh, and chocolate cream pie instead of cake!" "Well, that was fast!" Michael looked shocked. I smiled broadly, shrugging my shoulders, lost in the idea of a chocolate cream pie, which I have not had in years. I want to celebrate me for a change. I have done the whole self deprecating thing, or the whole Martyr Mommy thing. Now, I just want to have a good time.
This year is not really about my age. 48 doesn't mean much to me, except that I am still here, and I am happier every year I get to say that. I smile more than I frown, now. My temper has been softened, partially because I am lazier and getting angry takes so much effort, and partially because I have the benefit of perspective. I am infinitely more patient than I have ever been in my life. I'll be honest, it shocks me, how patient I am. I had given up hope of ever having the ability to wait and see. I think last year has much to do with the recent acquisition. Last year and all that moving, packing, unpacking...it taught me to shut up and wait. It was a good lesson I hope to never repeat as long as I live. Having put that in writing means I will definitely repeat it. It's part of a private joke between God and I. It's the literal definition of a location joke.
So I am giddy as a school girl, anxiously waiting for my big day to arrive. Whatever happens, I am certain I will love it. I plan to take the entire day playing loud music, drinking champagne, eating the fatted calf, and gobbling up the pie. Rumor has it in the house that the day before my birthday is Mother's Day and there may be cheese cake after the big brunch. Michael is off for several days coming up, my birthday included. He did tell me one thing we will be doing over our four day weekend, which is planting flowers. For this is why I love him so much.
Years ago when I was alone with the kids, it was awkward for me to celebrate Mother's Day for myself. The kids had no one to go to help them, so they felt bad they were too little to do anything on their own. I hated seeing how sad they were, so we made a tradition of buying plants and putting flowers in the garden. Instead of having a bouquet that would eventually fade, I would have flowers for months that reminded me of my children. They loved the idea, until they found out they had to help garden. They would always rally and participate, laughing at each other, and appreciating the work at the end of the day. They always noticed our flower garden after that, too. Once the plants took hold and started to bloom, they would say, "Mommy, did you see the flowers? They look so nice!" In the spirit of that tradition, Michael plans to take me to get some flowering vines to put in by our wine bistro. Every time I look out the large arched window I will be reminded of my children, my beloved husband and the year I finally got my act together and just let it all happen.