There are 2 types of people in the world
There are 2 types of people in the world: those who LOVE their birthday and those who would rather slam their fingers in the car door rather than celebrate their birth date.
I am in that last camp.
It is actually a fear that has become ridiculous over the years. It is not just my ageing years I am afraid of although I do have unfinished breeding business and perhaps this subconsciously upsets me. Damn you, shrivelled eggs! It is simply that birthdays make me anxious.
I get nervous thinking about all that attention piled onto me and I get even more nervous wondering how to thank everyone and I start to fret at the thought of friends and family spending their hard earned money on me when I have so much stuff already. Strange, right? I know.
And I love cake and streamers and sparklers and I make the biggest fuss of everyone else’s birthday so I should really be the birthday queen! But every year I try to be a birthday ninja and just sneak on by without a fuss being made of the day I was born.
My birthday (much to many friends disgust) is not even on Facebook. Sacrilegious! The only person who is expected to know I want a fuss even though I say I do not want a fuss is my long-suffering husband. I know. Men are not mind readers. Last year it all came to a head. I bought my own present as I have done for decades. I said I don’t like birthdays – I did not say I do not like spending money! So on my actual birthday my husband simply asked where my gifts were I had bought. I threw him a look poison enough to kill a small army. Off he marched to hunt and gather only to return home with a Betty Boop coffee cup.
I am a mug snob and only drink out of fine bone china and usually the cup is pale pink covered in roses. Yes. I am THAT type of girl. So the bright red ‘Made In China’ chunky coffee cup bursting with Betty Boop’s ample bosom was a frightful shock first thing in the morning. The cup came to be a symbol of resentment over the next year. I wanted to smash that damn thing. Fast forward to this year where I was still being ridiculous and not wanting a fuss of my birthday.
Two things happened the day before my birthday. My little boy badly broke his arm and needed to be taken via ambulance to hospital because it was such a nasty break with Dad nearly fainting and bones at all strange angles and people screaming.
My friend who is a doctor happened to be with us and was a pillar of strength and reason. My little guy was eventually released from hospital and despite being pale and shaken up was with me on my birthday and I have never been happier with a present than being able to hold his little broken body in my arms. Nothing reminds you of how much you totally love your kids than when they are injured. Now this same doctor friend helps treat people who are fighting cancer.
She very quietly said to me that she has treated many patients who are dying at aged 25 and who would love to be my age (in their 40s) and have 3 children to celebrate with. Wow. Talk about gaining some perspective. I felt almost ashamed. Birthdays are a wondrous milestone.
So we did celebrate with both our families with champagne and croissants for breakfast and a salty swim with the beach all to ourselves. Perfection. And my husband is taking me away for a weekend – what a truly perfect gift of time. Next year I may even post the date on Facebook!