Happy Birthday to...

Anyone but me!

I love birthdays, I really do. Every one but my own.

Yesterday we celebrated D's birthday in a very low-key style. Dinner with the kids, a present or two, and a blueberry cheesecake at the request of the honoree. On Saturday, his birthday continues with his family coming over for a nice dinner to celebrate.

Tomorrow marks another very special day. A very good friend of mine is celebrating her birthday tomorrow. Unfortunately, she's about 800 miles away, so I won't be able to celebrate with her. But happy birthday anyway, Alienbody!

People's birthdays stick in my head. October 7, December 15, September 9, October 15, March 9, February 18 - these are all birthdays of friends of mine - some of whom, I haven't seen in person for over 15 years!

I love to celebrate other people's birthdays. I often get accused of "going too far" - but when I can share in the recognition of Someone Else's birthday, I want to - as much as possible.

So why is it that I don't get as excited about my own birthday? Mine's now a month away. All I can think is "so what"? I've had some fun birthdays, but usually they've passed pretty much without any fanfare or (in some cases) even acknowledgement! Last year, my parents forgot my birthday for a couple of days. Now, at the time, my mom was fighting, really fighting just to make it another day, and my dad was right there with her, so no, the fact that they didn't call, was not held against them. In fact, when my dad *did* call, it was one of those rare times when he showed emotion towards me. That call will probably roam around in my memories for the rest of my birthdays.

I think the reason that my own birthdays fall short is that I tend to use them as a report card for the past year. How did I do on my journey? What positive changes did I make? What negative ones.

This has been a big year for change for me. Maybe this year, I should celebrate. Maybe this year, I'll recognize how far I've come, and I won't be disappointed.