I have long been a fan of birthdays. And if I’m being completely honest and candid, I’ve long been a fan of my birthday. One day. One day that is to honor the day that each of us arrived. A day that everyone should be nice to you. That the people who have created the fabric of your life take a moment to give a shout out to the fact that you walk this earth. It’s a good thing.
My most memorable birthday has always been my 13th. My parents pulled off a surprise party for me. Almost my entire class attended. I can vividly remember being surrounded by my classmates, the people who were at the time, more like brothers and sisters than friends. We all came together and partied like 13 year olds {back before that included colored bracelets or sexting}. It was, for me, a great day. I’ll never forget opening a Fossil watch and a No Fear tee from a group of my closest friends. It seemed like the coolest gift a girl could ever get. And more because of who it came from and the thought that went into it than because of what it actually was. At the end of gift opening, my classmates watched as I attempted to open a mystery package… a whoopie cushion that was wrapped with layer upon layer of duct tape, paper and packing tape. As I recount the memories, they will mean so little to anyone else but to me, it was just one of the very best days. My parents, siblings and those who really mattered, took the time to plan a day, just for me. And as selfish as it might sound, I was filled with joy {and I looked really awesome}.
When I had Barrett, the idea of birthdays evolved. A birth day. The actual day of birth. Whether joyous or scary or painful or all of the above. A birth day. The day that Barrett became Barrett and Jonah became Jonah. Beautiful blessings. And on my birthdays since, I’ve found myself thinking more about my mom and my dad than about myself. About their efforts to give me birthday after birthday. To honor my life, each year. What a gift they’d given me.
This year, I turned 30. Thirty years old. It hardly seems possible since I just turned thirteen…since I just got married…or since I just had Barrett…since I just had Jonah. Life can just slip through our fingers without such highlights, milestones or without birthdays to celebrate. To remember each. and. every. year.
I can’t think of a birthday that I haven’t felt loved or one where I felt like anyone forgot but this year… well, since my 13th, I think this was the best.
It started with three boys waking me… with breakfast and a mimosa… and this…
You don’t really need to be able to read it… just know the gist is that Adam planned the day for me full of some of the things I love the most. Breakfast made by Adam {love his breakfast!}. Time etched out for feedings so that I wouldn’t have to pump because he knows I love 1:1 time with Jonah and that I hate pumping. A planned visit from Grandma B so that I could go get a scheduled massage and pedicure. Lunch with Adam. A chick flick…with my husband {and movie popcorn}…in the middle of the day. Family time with the boys and time with friends. And that doesn’t even include a special cookie delivery from a dear friend, voicemails and text messages from my faves and so many of the simplest things…all in one special day.
And, because the people who read my blog are primarily close friends who know that I’m sooo not into bragging or showing off… Here’s a pic of my “big girl gift”…
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