Another Year

 "A mother is a person who seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie."  ~Tenneva Jordan

Last year was a big birthday for me.  Huge.  I turned 30.  We had a real bash, went roller skating, ate good Indian food, and a friend made me a very fancy Black Forest cake, which is my favorite.  Maeve was a real trouper, but did not have a good time.  All my friends were there, they even requested "Dancing Queen" for me to skate to at the rink, which many people know is my absolute favorite.

This year I am more settled into my mom personality, and suddenly I feel like I am turning into a total mom stereotype.  "I don't need anything, really, I'm fine, let's just go out for breakfast and not make a big deal."  I am starting to understand why moms do this.  When your life is so wrapped up in your kid, why make a fuss out of mom's birthday?  

I guarantee I will have more fun and put more thought into Maeve's birthdays than mine from now on, at least until I hit 40.  Maybe then the Husband and I will make it to Paris at last, and leave Maeve with Grandma and Grandpa in England overnight.  That's a lovely thought, and something to look forward to.

This is not meant to be at all self-deprecating; I am not downplaying my birthday because I feel sorry for myself or some rubbish.  I've been looking forward to this fancy breakfast for months now, and I think it'll be marvelous.  I just don't have the desire to throw myself big birthday parties anymore.  Is that just part of being a grownup?  Or a mom?  Or just me?  

Either way, this is how I want it.  I look forward to reading all the happy posts on my wall on Facebook tomorrow, to a quiet and delicious breakfast out with my husband, and a nice dinner with my folks.  That really is enough for me.

My first birthday - a real bash!