Happy Birthday to Me

Another year has come and gone.  Hip-hip-hooray!  Yesterday was my latest-and-not-the-greatest birthday, but it was still a birthday, nonetheless.

It is pretentious that I am wishing myself a "Happy Birthday"?  That was a rhetorical question, but if you answered "yes", then you can stick it, mainly because it's my blog, and if I want to toot my own horn, dammit...TOOT TOOT!

In case you're wondering what I did for my birthday, I really didn't do much of anything.  I asked Husband for a puppy for my Birthday -- and if I sound like a 10-year-old asking for a puppy, again, you can stick it because I'm dying for a pet.  Specifically, I asked for a dauschund.  I'm dying to be a dauschund owner.  See that puppy right there?  He's the one I want, and I would name him August (yes, I have a name picked out.)  Don't judge me.  I have been fantasizing about this damn dog for a long time.

Mainly, what I did for my birthday was spend time with Daughter and Husband.  We went out to eat and had some laughs.  It was a perfectly lovely day.  I appreciated the time I got to spend with my family, and was thankful I saw another year come and go.

As far as presents?  Well, I didn't really get a gift from Husband -- we were supposed to go to the mall at some point in the day, since he told me we could go and I could "buy whatever I wanted".  But a nap called my name yesterday afternoon, and the mall closed at 6:00 p.m.  Which mean that today -- I went to the mall and bought whatever I wanted...which ended up being a beautiful Coach purse and matching wallet.  In case you didn't know, I love, love, LOVE, purses and specifically, Coach purses.  So I added a new baby to my collection.  She's a beauty, too.  Can't wait for Fall so I can break out the new purse.  Ooohhh, la, la!

It's That Time of Year Again...

I'm stuck in the middle!

It's August.  You know what that means?  It means my birthday is right around the corner!  August 12th to be exact (just so you know -- so mark your calendars). 

 

My last few birthdays have been sort of an emotional roller coaster of sorts.  I suppose this year will be no different.  It's number 39...which means I'm one year closer to turning that 40 number.  I don't really feel like I am 39, which is what everyone probably says as they get older.

 

I was laying in bed this morning.  Thinking.  Bed is where I do most of my thinking, and it's actually my favorite place to be.  I was thinking about Daughter and how she's entering the THIRD grade this year.  She's growing into a little person right before my eyes.  Like an actual REAL person, not just some little kid.  It's amazing.

 

I was also reflecting on this past year, because so much has happened.  I passed the Bar exam (finally), and got a job as an attorney, which, considering the Michigan economy, and considering there's like 400 million attorneys in Michigan, was a down-right true-blue miracle.  (It's also a miracle considering my shitty grades from law school.  We won't even mention how many times I had to take the Bar.) 

 

A lot has happened this year, since I last celebrated my birthday.  I don't know what I'm expecting this next year to have in store for me, but I'm hoping it's positive.  I have been on a roll of sorts, it seems.  I also think this might be the last year that I'm willing to turn another year older, officially.  I'm going to stop counting.  Also, please smack me next year if I say something like how "40 is the new 30" or some ridiculous shit like that.  Because you know that I'm going to --  shit people -- 39 is the new 29!  hahaha  I like that.

I'm sure when you check in on me next week for my birthday post I'm going to be in a tizzy.  I don't like getting older.  I mean, don't get me wrong.  I love the wisdom that comes with growing older, I just don't like the wrinkles (THAT REMINDS ME...I need to get a few Botox injections in my forehead!) that come with growing older.  I also could do without the aches and pains, and the fact that I can no longer do a cartwheel without throwing out my back or breaking my neck or something -- yes, I tried several months ago to do one (I used to be able to rock the shit out of cartwheels, I could even do them one-handed) and I hurt myself.  I forgot that I wasn't 12 years old anymore.

 

And those people that say "oh, it's just a number" are completely full of shit.  They're probably the ones that are in the deepest stages of denial about growing older.  So don't you dare try to sell me that crap when I start complaining about getting older. 

 

When I grow old, I want to be her!

I'm going to wrap up this rant by saying -- it's not that I think 39 or 40 is old, because I don't.  Especially since I'm walking that tightrope myself.  It's just that it's not YOUNG.  It's in the middle.  And being "middle-aged" is sort of gross-sounding all in itself.  I think I'd rather be old than "middle-aged".  Mostly because of all the cliches that come with middle-age -- like the "mid-life crisis".  Fuck, I'm just hoping I go through a mid-life crisis.  Maybe get a 25-year old boytoy, buy a sportcar and lose 100 lbs. so I can prance around the neighborhood in a bikini.  LOL  Wouldn't that be hilarious?  Too bad I'm too tired in my middle age to want to put any kind of effort into any of that.  Because it makes me tired just thinking about a 25-year old boyfriend or all the exercise and effort losing 100 lbs. would take.  *YAWN*

My Mother, My Guilt Trip

Today is my mother’s birthday.

If you know me have read this blog for a while, you know my mother (God Bless Her) is someone who gets on my nerves like no one else can. She has the talent to turn me, a 38-year-old grown woman and mother of one, into a 13-year-old teenage brat. She always makes me feel fat – example: included in my birthday present this year was an aromatherapy roll-on thing that had grapefruit extract in it and was specifically meant to “control hunger”. She told me I could roll it on my wrist and sniff it whenever I was feeling hungry. Gee…thanks mom! Thank you for reminding me once again that I need to lose weight. After all, isn’t that what mothers are for? To remind you of your inadequacies? Anyfat…I digress.

This weekend, my mom helped me organize and staff a moms-to-moms sale I did at Daughter’s school. If you don’t know what a moms-to-moms sale is – it’s like a flea market or garage sale of child-related things. You could get everything from cribs to bicycles to clothing to toys at this sale. I still have lots of Daughter’s baby clothes and since I’m not having any more children (now you know that since I’ve written that statement, I’ll probably end up pregnant before the year is over, right?), I might as well try to make a little cash off of what I have left. And since I’m not patient enough or organized enough to put together garage sale (nor do I really want to commit my entire weekend to sitting outside watching people rummage through my things), I thought the moms-to-moms sale was perfect. It was from 8:30-1pm, and there would be lots of people there.

Since my mom helped me, we decided after the moms-to-moms, I would go home, pick up Daughter and we would go out to lunch to celebrate her birthday. When I got home to pick up Daughter, she was asleep. I decided to let her sleep and went to lunch without her and my mother was not happy about it. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal, but apparently, this was the first of many mistakes I would make over the weekend. That evening, my mother called me to invite me over to have dinner at her house on Sunday, once again, to celebrate her birthday. This was a huge problem, because for the last year, if not more, Husband, Daughter and I go to Husband’s parents on Sunday evenings for dinner. My mother knows this and is insanely jealous of the time we spend over there. Correction: she is insanely jealous that my inlaws get to see Daughter a guaranteed once a week. As a side note, ever since Daughter was born, my mother turns every visit, every holiday, every everything, into a competition. Who do we visit more? Who do we spend more time with? Frankly, I’m tired of it. It’s not a competition to see who we love more, or whatever she thinks. It’s just that my inlaws are normal and my family is dysfunctional. Every moment my parents spend together is like watching War of the Roses. It’s embarrassing for me, it’s uncomfortable for Husband, and it’s not a good example to set for Daughter. My mother has nothing nice to say to my dad, and my dad has nothing nice to say to my mom. It’s PAINFUL.

But after guilting me into having dinner with her on Sunday (of course I showed up, she’s my mother), she didn’t let the fact die that she had to basically coerce me to visit, and the jealousy shined through like a bright lighthouse beacon.

“Why do you always have to have dinner over there?”
“Why don’t you come have dinner here sometimes?”

Basically, "why are you such a bad daughter and prefer to spend time over your in-laws instead of here, at your childhood home with dad and me?" Here are the answers I would have loved to have given:

1. Because all you do is pick at dad until he’s a broken man.
2. Because dad has no respect for you or any other women, and therefore, I feel compelled to open up a can of Feminist Whoop-Ass on him and cause arguments myself.
3. Because you decide to argue in front of not only me, but Daughter and Husband (even though you know this makes him extremely uncomfortable).
4. Because I hate Gizmo (their evil Pekinese dog) because he growls at me.
5. Because Annie makes me sad (their Beagle who in probably going to be put to sleep this week because she’s old and sick and is probably the sweetest dog ever).
6. Because you guilt me into shit and make me feel like a bad daughter.
7. Because you make me feel fat all the time especially when you point out how "healthy" the dinner you've made is.  Oh and let's include how you think Daughter is fat (she's NOT fat, y'all).  Just because neither of us are anorexic-stick-figures doesn't mean we're fat.  (Well, I'm a little fat, but my child is definitely NOT.)
8. Because you make me feel like a bad mother because I don’t force Daughter to eat vegetables all the time. (Sorry, mom, I’m just trying not to give her food issues like you gave me.)
9. Because you remind me that you almost died, and therefore, I should want to spend every waking moment with you.
10. Because the both of you are Republicans and drive me crazy with your ultra-conservative bullshit.  And I can't stand all of your hatin' on Obama (which I'm convinced has roots in racism which I can't stand.)
11. Bonus: Because you both like Glenn Beck. Who in my opinion, is just as big of a douchebag as Rush Limbaugh. And that’s saying something.

If I had any balls, I would tell my mother to get off the cross, because someone else needs the wood. She is the classic martyr. *sigh*

HAPPY BIRTHDAY MOM!  :)

Ode to August

It’s that time of year again…tomorrow is the first day of August. August means a lot of different things to me, but most importantly, my birthday is in August and August means summer is almost over. Both a beginning and an end for me, August always makes me feel reflective.

As a beginning – the beginning of another year of life for me – always makes me reflective on the year that has passed. Last year, at this time I was unemployed, was pretty sure I had bombed the Bar exam (I did) and I didn’t have a whole lot to look forward to. I was wallowing in depression and self-pity and I wasn’t looking forward to my birthday AT ALL (which is very unusual, as I ALWAYS look forward to my birthday because it is the day where we can all celebrate the wonderful fabulosity of me…thank you Kimora Simmons Lee for introducing me to “fabulosity”).

Looking back on this past year, I’d have to admit it’s been quite a roller-coaster ride. From unemployment came a horrendous job that I only stayed at because I had to find a way to pay for Christmas. Thank goodness my current job came around because I didn’t know how much longer I could have stayed at my last job before I was going to lose it.

At the end of 2008 I was also very scared Husband was going to (possibly) lose his job with Ford. I was literally terrified. I was upset with President Bush, I was upset with republicans, I was upset with people who drove around the Detroit area in foreign cars…I was just upset. Upset and terrified I'd lose my house and have to move in with my in-laws *shudder*...kidding. They're actually really nice people and maybe I could have finally learned how to cook food Husband will eat (unforch, I only know how to cook "American" food even though we're all fucking Americans...ok, I digress. Obviously another topic for another day.) Anyhoo, looking back, I can say that I am so thankful he didn’t lose his job and thankful that Ford didn’t need the bailout money. And while my retirement savings were severely depleted thanks to cashing out ½ of my 401(k) to pay down lots of debt after my stint at being unemployed (Suze Ormond would maybe have kicked my ass for that), I still know that we are in a better place than lots of people. I still have my house, I still drive a nice car (a FORD thankyouverymuch), Daughter can still get a new Wii game every once in a while, and I can still go apeshit at the Coach outlet (within reason). *whew*

I am hoping that this next birthday brings me lots of joy and happiness. I can’t say I’m happy with turning 38, but age is only a number, right? How come when you’re a kid, people in their 30s+ seemed so OLD? I don’t feel “old” or “middle-aged”, although as Husband quite eloquently put it a few weeks ago, we are probably close to be ½-way done with our lives. Dammit. And I haven’t even gotten the hang of it yet.

Besides the birthday thing, August also is signaling the end of summer. This summer sort of blew, because we really haven’t had “summer” weather all that much. The days have been on the cool side, lots more days in the 70s and low 80s, than in the 90s. While I’m not complaining (even though it would seem like it) because I love sunny days in the 70s, it’s been too cool for the lakes to warm up or for daughter to spend a lot of time in the pool (no I don’t have one, but one of Husband’s uncles does and last year she LIVED in that pool). I don’t have much of a tan (skin cancer be dammed!). On the bright side however, my electric bill has been reasonable because we haven’t had to turn on the central air everyday – and that’s kind of nice because I love having the windows open on a cool night.

I’m sad that summer is nearly over because that also means Daughter goes back to school. I know lots of parents look forward to getting rid of their kids once the school year begins again, but I don’t feel that way. Daughter is a kid who certainly wears me out with all of her chatter and her desperate need to be the center of attention (the only-child syndrome, I suppose), but even when I can’t hear myself think because she’s blabbing on about Spiderman, or Spongebob, or some Wii game, or some new iCarly episode (it's on Nickelodeon and actually isn't half bad) – I enjoy spending time with her because I’m her best friend. I know the day is going to come where she’s going to prefer talking and being with her friends over me, and that day is going to break my heart. In the meantime, I just try to cherish this time and somehow dig deep and learn to really give a shit about iCarly, Spongebob, Wii Games and Spiderman.

Even though it’s a little early, I’m going to say goodbye to my 37th year. Can’t say it was all bad, can’t say it was all good. BUT, I’m not going to say goodbye to summertime just yet. Like Daughter, I’m just going to try and enjoy the time we have together and not worry too much about what’s around the corner.