So yesterday, was my 40th birthday.
It’s strange, you know? Everyone always has this thing in life with “milestones”. Apparently 40 years is a pretty big one. I don’t really see it. It certainly didn’t feel like a “milestone” to me.
Perhaps it’s the timing of everything. These last couple of weeks have been pretty crazy. What with the loss of our cat, the birth of our daughter, and generally our entire lives changing completely almost overnight, I can see how my birthday slips under the radar…
Not for lack of trying however. Yesterday I went to get us some breakfast, and in the 20 minutes I was gone, Heather had managed to blow up about 20 balloons, wrap a present and start baking a cake for me. When I walked in the door, breakfast in hand, she was standing there, greeting me with a winded smile (she had just blown up 20 balloons, remember) – “Happy Birthday!!”
She got me a beautiful book, Papa Please Get The Moon for Me and wrote a beautiful Bday message inside for me.
It was really nice.
I may have teared up. Stupid emotions.
Then we had breakfast, and later on, cake.
The rest of the day went pretty much like the other days have gone since we have been in this self imposed baby sequester (doctor recommended we stay pretty much away from people for about 2 weeks after Channing was born). Outside of a brief walk around the block, it was pretty dull.
I got the occasional birthday texts from friends. My sister sent me a text, too. No cards, no phone calls (except Heather’s mom, which was awkward). The day was oddly silent.
So much for milestones, right?
This. Is. 40.