It was my birthday a few days ago.
All in all, it was a lacklustre event. I mean, I’m no spring chicken, and it wasn’t a milestone year, but everyone still wants to be made a fuss of and feel a bit special on their birthday, even if it isn’t one of ‘the big ones’ – don’t they?
Yes, the phone rang early in the morning with various family members and friends calling to wish me a happy birthday. Yes, the kids came in and jumped on me at around 6.15am and the cuddles were amazing and yes, I did get spoilt!
So I know I shouldn’t sound too ungrateful.
My kids (under 10 years) are my entire world, I worship them and they really tried to make a fuss of me.
They made beautiful hand made cards and pictures and my daughter gave me one of the drawings she did at a school holiday art camp, and I cried, genuine tears because I was grateful for the little loves of my life who tried their best to make mummy feel special.
I cried also because my husband didn’t make much of a fuss.
For starters, he bought me a card that read in delicate gold script at the top… “For my daughter-in-law…”! I mean seriously! He swears he picked one that said “For my wife” when he stood in front of the rows of cards at the newsagent, but clearly he didn’t bother reading Hallmark’s chosen words when he wrote inside: “I will love you always, your husband…”
I should mention here that my husband has had a lot on his plate, so to speak, lately and hasn’t been very ‘present’, and he’s dealing with bigger stuff than my birthday – but still, he might as well not have bothered.