Tuesday, July 13, 2010

happy birthday dear me.


I hate birthdays. Ok, so maybe that's a little harsh. I've been thinking about it all day and I can't decide. When I grow up and have kids should I throw them birthday parties? Because the day they don't get one, they're going to be very dissapointed.

Let's face it, birthdays are days all about the celebration of you, JUST you, being born here, and living through another year of life, and every human on this planet loves that idea, it's just the way we are. It's suppose to be the best day of the year, after Christmas of course. But today, for me, it wasn't. It hasn't been. Every year is a flop. Don't get me wrong, I appreciate all the hard work my mom put in to throwing me those parties, but they just never turned out right. There was always that one girl at that slumber party who just had to have it her way, or something would go down. Me, being a people pleaser can't say no, and so... the party would go down hill from there... for me anyways. At age 14 I stopped having party's. I would get to pick what we had for dinner, and a month later have a friend out on the boat as my "party." But that was all. I've always held such high expectations for the day of my birthday. It's suppose to be different, better, exciting, but it never seems to go as planned, it's almost always worse than a normal day. Every morning of my birthday for the past 16 years has been full of reserved energy and excitement. But not today, I know better. Today I woke up, and nearly forgot it was my birthday. Today I went to work, and it was a cold day and not very busy, so they sent me home early. Today I sat in front of my computer and counted the 65 birthday wishes sent to me on facebook (that's how bored I was). Today I almost argued, but I'd like to call it negotiated with my mom about the time I would be home for dinner as I went off to visit a friend and her new puppy for a couple hours. Today I arrived at dinner 25 minutes late, got chewed out about it, and sat in silence eating my special "birthday dinner" that I didn't choose, alone. Today I sulked on the coach, not breaking a smile, to let my parents know I was dissapointed in the day. It was just another day, nothing special. And today as I finished my piece of cake my sister helped me make for myself yesterday night I opened up a card. It had a picture of a little girl dressed up in her ballerina outfit. She had her hands on her hips and she looked up with a grumpy look on her face. It read, "Daughter and sister, every year your birthday is a beautiful reminder of how lucky we are to have you in our family." I turned the page and read, "Your eyes are rolling, aren't they? Just say 'Thanks' and have a happy birthday!" That's when I realized, 17 or not, that little grumpy girl on the front page still hasn't grown up.

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