Happy?

It’s “Birthday Week” in my family right now.  Yesterday was John’s 12th, tomorrow is my 25th and on the 25th we celebrate my Grandma Joan’s birthday.  A lot of my friends have birthdays within a week of right now and we’ve all been chatting about them.

This is something we’ve talked about before, but how “happy” of a birthday do you have?  Or, can you even expect a happy birthday?  Some of my friends truly dread the coming of their birthdays.  People disappoint, circumstances lead to crummy days, overall they are just not happy.  Typically, I’ve always looked forward to my birthday.  I’m a gifts kind of girl, it’s arguably my top “love language” (acts of service is a close second, but I often think of acts of service as gifts).  I love to get gifts, who doesn’t?  But I also love giving gifts.  I love going to the store and picking out something beautiful for my mom or my sister.  I love going and searching through clearance racks at Meijer looking for a goofy but appropriate gift for one of my brothers.  I love writing a sappy note in a card, just to see if I can make the birthday person cry.

This year though, things are different.  I was looking forward to my birthday.  I was talking about making plans.  And then life kept happening, and the baby has had a tough week or two, and the two year old doesn’t sleep, and the power has gone out at the theater twice during tech week and there’s just SO much stress.   And so plans never got made.  I feel fat.  I don’t have a new cute outfit to go out in.  I don’t really know what I want to do.  I dread the day after, because besides the potential for feeling let down about the big day, it’s also the anniversary of Celeste’s death.  Jude will hit the same age she was when she died (to the day) on my birthday… I realized that this morning.

There’s still time for making plans, of course.  Chris won a gift card to a local restaurant, so we know where we’ll be going for dinner.    Someone will be able to babysit, I’m sure.  And Chris bought me a fabulous bike for my gift, which he already surprised me with.

I’m holding out hope for a Happy Birthday.  And really, it’s about what you do with it.

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