My kids are starting to notice something about birthdays around here. While I make a fairly big deal about everyone else's birthday, I prefer my own birthday remain very subdued. I have a difficult
relationship with my own day, and as much as I try to get past that, it just is.
One day a year
The reason I make a big deal about others' birthdays is simple, really. It is the one day a year that is solely and wholly about them. I supposed it might be a little different if I were the parent
of multiples, but this is what it is for us. We all share Christmas and other days on which we gift token gifts, but birthdays aren't shared. When I make a show for my kids and husband and other
friends and family on their birthdays, it's my way of showing how happy I am that they are in my life. How happy I am that they were born.
For my kids, especially, I get such joy in celebrating their birthday. Can you remember anything more exciting as a kid than your birthday? Okay, maybe Christmas if you celebrate it, but birthdays
rock. We don't go overboard on extravagant gifts or anything, but we do find little ways to make the whole day wonderful. I'll make a special breakfast and a special dinner. I make the cake my child
wants and try to be really thoughtful with the gifts we choose. We plan a fun party with friends. As much as I tell my kids I love them on every day of the year, I say it twice or three times as much
on their birthday. They feign annoyance; I know they enjoy it.
Leftover bits of childhood
For me, though, there is mostly ambivalence. It's not about my ever increasing and sometimes scary age (candles on the cake represent decades now). It's about feeling wanted, and, without getting
into detail, that feeling comes straight from my own childhood. And I am not the only sibling in my family with this ambivalence. Over the years, I've had some really crappy birthdays.
Since having kids, however, I've made a concerted effort to accept and even enjoy a birthday or two. After all, if I hadn't been born, my kids would not have been born - and they are truly, truly
people to celebrate.
The kids have taken the birthday love I shower on them and turned it back on me. Slowly, slowly, I am learning to allow and accept my children drenching me with love on my birthday the way I do with
them. I swear they get more excited about my birthday than I do! I may never enjoy my birthday the way they do (and the way I hope they always do), and I may always be a bit ambivalent, but it's my
day. My one day a year.