Tuesday, September 1, 2009

Happy Birthday to Me, Happy Birthday to Me...

I won't go on because that sounds silly even in my head.

I'm not a huge fan of my own birthday, but not for the reasons you may think. I'm a horrible gift receiver. Really, I am. I hate it when people get things for me. Bryan had to pester me for weeks till I finally broke down and let him get me something last weekend. It's especially hard when it's him because I know the money we don't have and I don't want to spend it on me.

It goes back to my childhood, but I also hate the pressure surrounding birthdays. When you think about it, it's just another day. And 34 isn't a landmark birthday, like 21 or 30 or 40. So what's the big deal?

See how bad I am with this? It's even harder with kids. They're THRILLED it's your birthday. Can't wait to tell EVERYONE. I hate that kind of attention.

I'm not the kind who obsesses about getting older. I don't bemoan missed opportunities or lost chances. While I believe in learning from my past I see no need to dwell there.

So I'll slap on my happy face for my family and just ignore how I personally feel about today.