Birthday Blues

My birthday is coming up next month.  I'm pretty much dreading it.  Getting older has never bothered me -- leaving my sorrowful 20's was a wonderful thing -- but 36 sounds really close to middle age.  Probably b/c it is, duh.

It has to be better than last year's non-celebration though.  Still reeling from my miscarriage and subsequent molar pregnancy misdiagnosis, I desperately needed a pick-me-up and a good birthday would have really done the trick.  Instead, I got...just a regular day.  I had to buy my own birthday cake.  I took the kids to The Olive Garden for lunch and, totally against my introverted nature, I told the waitress it was my birthday in the hope that she would bring me a dessert with a candle or sing to me.  Nope, nothing, just like the rest of the day.  My family held my birthday dinner weeks after the fact and my Mom wanted to use a frozen lasagna left over from her friend's husband's funeral the prior December.  I have never felt less loved, less appreciated than I did at that point.  I don't even like lasagna!  I, who always go out of my way to be there for everyone's birthday, had been abandoned, basically forgotten.  I should get over it but obviously, I still haven't.

This year is going to be weird.  Depending on which medical professional you ask, I'm under the Diabetes dietary restrictions so cake is out.  I'm having the baby the next day so the focus will be on The Big Event anyway.  I wish our birthdays weren't going to be so close together.  It's totally selfish but I've always loved my birthday and now it will never, ever be about me again.  It will just be a prep day for my youngest child's celebration.  As it should be, of course, because birthdays are a big deal to a child.  The thing is, Mommies need love, too, and if I didn't get it last year when there was no other big deal going on, how can I ever hope to have my own special day again?

My family is already bugging me about what I want for my birthday.  I.  DON'T.  CARE.  Seriously, if I want something, I buy it.  Presents don't equal love to me.  What do I want?  A cake I didn't have to buy.  Someone to watch my kids so that I can go out with my husband one last time before our lives revert to The Newborn Era again.  They keep talking about how I'll need clothes after the baby is born.  I told them if they buy me clothes, I will be pissed because that is something I need to pick out for myself.  My taste and theirs, radically different plus they never buy me the right size.  Did I mention the size 3x nightgown my mother gave me for Christmas?  Tom, the kids and I could have used it as a tent in the backyard.  I know I'm big but Jesus Christ, how mean is a 3x?  So, no, I do not want clothes or candles or picture frames.  My family is anti-gift card so that wonderful option is out.  They don't believe me when I say I don't want them to buy me anything but I really don't. What would be the best gift, even better than a kid-free evening with Tom?  A one-time maid service so that my bathrooms and kitchen floor are all sparkly and clean when I get home from the hospital.  It's so damn hard to hunker down and scrub them myself these days.  I want to cry when I look at my dirty floor.  I can't ask for THAT, though.  It sounds too pampered and self-indulgent. 

Ugh, one more reason I wish I could fast forward life to the end of March.  Spring would be here, so would the baby and another disappointing birthday would over.  36...Dear God, how did that happen?  I still feel 17.  Well, my spirit does.  My body feels 87 but I hope that passes once The Hat Trick is born.