Age is just a number. I've always felt that and I've always believed that. We are as young or as old as we feel. When I was sixteen I felt thirty-five. After long days chasing Angel around I feel like a hundred and fifty. Today though, I am thirty-three.
Yes, I am a Christmas Eve baby. I came screaming into this world at 8:02 pm December 24, 1978 and I have been screaming ever since. I've grown up and grown older with the typical issues associated with a holiday birthday. The ever typical two gifts in one was always my biggest peeve as a child. My birthday has nothing to do with the holiday that comes right after it. If your birthday is July 3 I don't hand you a sparkler and say happy birthday, do I? When you're a kid though all you want is your day filled with presents and cake and friends and more presents. My family always made an effort to separate the days and I will always be grateful for that.
Then I got older. See I'm an oddball in the sense that I actually still enjoy my birthday. I don't care about the number attached to it. I like that I have had another year, that I have experienced new things, that I'm still here. So I want the presents and the cake and the friends and more presents. I still wanted my separate day too. Today is my day and I didn't want it lost in the holiday.
Last year I was pregnant and married and turning thirty-two. I was an army wife in a new place with a new life and starting a new journey. I couldn't even begin to fathom what being thirty-two was going to be like, the adventures it would bring, the joys, the sorrows, the surprises. My husband got me a pair of beautiful diamond earrings last year and I thought they were the nicest gift ever.
A week and a half later I gave birth to my son. Maybe it was a little late but without a doubt, he has been the best gift I could have ever received.
Today I turned thirty-three. My husband got up and got my son up and changed. While I fed Angel Nick made me breakfast. For lunch/dinner he got me Chinese as has been my tradition for many many many years. My boys got me a wonderful new camera because it was all I wanted this year and I love it. And to top it all off, they got me a birthday cake. Yes, a birthday cake despite being told I was too old for one years ago.
It was the best birthday I have ever had and yet as wonderful as it was I only wanted one thing. For it to be tomorrow so I could give my little boy his first Christmas.
It isn't about me anymore. I will have more birthdays. I will grow up and grow older. I will always be grateful for the day and for the joys that come with it, but for the rest of my life my day will always come second to the days I want for my son.
Maybe it's because I have gotten older. Maybe it's because I've been a mom for almost a year now. Maybe it's because of something I can't put my finger on. All I know is thirty-three is still just a number and for every year that number goes up I'll be grateful I got to spend it with my wonderful husband and my amazing son.
Happy birthday to me!
