
Here is the most recent little thing I've done--a birthday garland. Todd turned 37 this week. With school starting soon (Todd's a professor) and so many things changing around here, we decided to have a quiet birthday at home--no real party. We had ribs and cake. Yum. And of course presents at breakfast time because who can wait all day?
Plus we got the kids to bed early somehow (thank goodness), had a sitter come by, and the two of us went to the late movie. It was really fun to go and not even worry one bit about the kids screaming their heads off the whole time (they just slept and slept and slept.) I think we'll be working it this way more often.
Anyway, I love birthdays. Maybe I love them too much. On my birthday I feel like I'm walking around all day with a silly grin on my face. I feel like I have a great secret that most people don't even know about. But if they did know, they would certainly be very happy for me and maybe they'd feel a little honored to be near me, an honest to goodness birthday girl.
So when someone close to me has a birthday, I might be a little too concerned about making sure it's a special day. I do silly things (like birthday garlands, for example, or crowns with fake jewels) just so they can have nice surprises. Maybe I want them to know that I really remember their birthday and that I know just how important birthdays are, you don't have to TELL ME, because I know and I hope yours really is. Plus then I ask the birthday person if they're having a good birthday. I kind of ask it all day long. Because I really hope they're not dissappointed with their day. It's probably all just annoying. But I sort of can't help it. So there. Anyway, Todd said he had a nice, quiet day and that he was happy. I'm glad.