You know, I spend a lot of time reminding folks to do stuff.

“Remember to shut the front door!”

“Remember to do your spelling homework!”

“Remember to practice piano, flush the toilet, finish your chores, feed the darn cat…” etc…. etc…..etc…..

Less often, though given my advanced age, probably more necessary, someone reminds me about something.

This week was my birthday. A grown up, non-milestone, midweek affair. Nice, but, you know, nothing to get riled up about. One of the twins, however, was beside herself with excitement.

“Four more days ’till your birthday!” she’d trill. “Three more…. Two..” “Aren’t you SO excited?!”

I rolled my eyes.

“Sweetcheeks, no. It’s not that kind of birthday. I have to work. Daddy has to work. We’ll just lay low, maybe watch some netflix and eat a little cake. No whoop.”

I thought I was being perfectly reasonable, sort of managing expectations. I know how much work goes into the big deal birthdays (and who, exactly, gets stuck with that work) and I didn’t much feel like throwing myself one. On a Tuesday, no less. The crushed look on her face, however, made it clear: I was being a colossal pill.

Why not get excited for your birthday? Even the workweek ones? Geez, isn’t it enough to be looking back on one pretty darn awesome year and looking ahead to the promise of another? What, exactly, is so very ho-hum about the gift of life that gets it prioritized somewhere between a gym workout and a clean cat box?

“You know what, honey?” I amended, “I am excited. SO excited.”

And you know what? It was a pretty excellent birthday. I had my annual Saver’s thrift store birthday blow-out, where I bought the traditional completely impractical pair of shoes. Sigh. They are so very pretty and so very, very impractical with their mile high heels. Hubby is going to take one look at them and roll his eyes and leave the room, but he shouldn’t, because they are far more comfortable than they look and besides, I can totally walk in them, what with my natural grace and……You know what? Let’s just move on.

Since I always like setting new goals, I was delighted to discover this year’s fitness challenge. Forget improving my marathon time, I’m just going to work on staying on the moving stair machine, “speed interval” setting, for more than seven minutes without dry heaving. Awesome.

As I said, it was a work day, so off to the cookie mines I went. We worked out little butts off at the shop, which let me tell you is much more rewarding then spending your birthday NOT making any money, so hooray for that. Plus there were, of course, many sweet kisses from the kidletts, birthday chocolates to replenish mom’s special stash and peanut butter cup cupcakes to eat while watching old episodes of the Muppet Show. All in all, a pretty fantastic day…

Especially for a Tuesday.

The Rise & Fall of a Momocracy

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