My birthday is coming up soon, and I can’t say I’m looking forward to it. I’m not sure why I even think about it anymore. The past three have been disasters.
On my 30th birthday, I was enormously pregnant and miserable already. My father-in-law was fixing drywall in our house, so I couldn’t be in there. Diesel took me to lunch at, of all places, the bar/restaurant down the street. He didn’t even acknowledge my birthday before he left for work. I cried myself to sleep that night.
The next year, we didn’t do anything at all for my birthday. Nothing. No special meal, no gas station flowers, no birthday dessert of any kind.
Then came last year’s. We were on vacation, so Diesel, Choo-choo, and I headed to a family restaurant for dinner and dessert. Things started well enough, except Choo-choo had hit his terrible twos early. He screamed and kicked and threw things everywhere. He refused to eat anything yet cried because he was hungry.
Diesel took him outside to calm him down and let him eat some of the food in peace. I stayed at the table and sobbed. All I’d wanted was a nice meal, and it turned into temper tantrum central. The wait staff skirted around me, clearly noticing my distress. I could feel the eyes of other customers nearby watching and pitying.
By the time Diesel and Choo-choo came back, I was done. Not with my food, just done with it all. I had no idea why I actually had held on to the hope that my birthday would feel special again.
I’m not sure how this year’s will turn out. I suppose if it is a disaster, I at least will be ready for it. If things happen to turn out the way I want them, I will have the joy of being pleasantly surprised. Wish me luck 🙂