It's My Birthday ... Blah, blah, blah

At what point in my life did my own birthday become insignificant? I think I saw the writing on the wall when I was pregnant with our oldest child. As the month of May approached and I approached my due date at the end of May, I began to understand. I was no longer going to have a birthday after the current year.

My husband, God bless his soul, tries really hard every year to make my birthday special for me. He teases the children that this is the only birthday of the year that matters. He buys me nice gifts. He even takes me to lunch or dinner and on special outings. My friends have tried too. They have bought my lunch and given me gifts. My Mom has always come through with a great birthday card and gift. But even though they try, my birthdays are usually *blah.*

To find the answer to the "blah's" I have to go back to the day I realized I was celebrating my last birthday. I turned 29 and 4 days later our bundle of joy arrived. Life was forever changed at that moment in time. Life, as we knew it, ceased to exist and the the new world revolved around that child. Suddenly, my birthday became a footnote to the needs and wants of an infant (then toddler/child/preteen/adolescent). As we have added to our family, my thoughts become more preoccupied with the needs and wants of all of our children.

I must say that I'm no saint. I have plenty of selfish moments where I put my needs before our children's. But my birthday isn't usually one of them.

Thanks you all of you who have worked to make my birthday the best ever, this year and in years past. I love you all. But please do forgive me if I have the "blah's."