The birthday year following a milestone birthday can be a bit of a letdown. Last year I celebrated six decades of life with a wonderful family trip to Hawaii and a surprise luncheon on a snowy day. But this year 61 is just – blah.
I remember how depressed I was the year I turned 31. Turning 30 hadn’t phased me. I was young and in love and would ultimately get engaged and married that year. But the following January, it hit me: I was OVER 30! I just couldn’t get over that fact, remembering the famous Sixties mantra, “Never trust anyone over 30.” Now I was in that square, uncool demographic for good.
As much as I love birthdays, sometimes life just gets in the way. One year my entire family got stomach flu the week before my birthday. I myself came down with a cold and raging sinus infection, no doubt run down by all the ministering to sick kids and washing vomit-laced sheets and clothing. On other birthdays my husband was out of town and my kids too little to put on much of a celebration on their own. This year, I’m just not feeling it.
My husband has been asking me what I want to do for my birthday, what presents I want, and when I think we should have cake and blow out candles. I’m kind of inclined to let the whole thing slide. But after 30 years of marriage, that man knows me better than I know myself. He won’t let the day go by without some form of celebration wedged in between school, soccer schedules, and dental appointments.
I did decide to treat myself to a morning at the salon today where I got my hair and nails done for no good reason other than it was my birthday and my roots were showing. I had a delicious latte at my home away from home, Barnes & Noble, and when I returned, there was a lovely flower arrangement from my kids gracing the kitchen table. Every so often I’ve been checking my Facebook page and enjoying the many birthday greetings from family and friends.
So although it’s a cold, gloomy, and blustery January day, I do feel a little bit special on this, my 61st birthday.