My birthday is tomorrow, but we celebrated today, so Rob, my parents, the kids and I could all go out to lunch together. I think this is the first year my parents didn't tell me my birth story. (We were too busy talking about Ivy and her sleep. Nothing like an actual here-and-now baby to get my mom to put on her Infant Mental Health Professional hat.) Westley, who hates mushrooms, ate about a million pesto-stuffed mushrooms.
I photograph my food in restaurants now. This is something my mother used to do when I was growing up, and I never understood it. I'm not sure I understand it now, but I feel compelled in that direction anyway. However, for what it's worth, the beautiful bowl topped with avocado and tomato and cilantro was Westley's, not mine. I was too busy eating my soup to take its picture.
I've always felt kind of uncomfortable about my birthday, for two unrelated reasons. First, because it falls one week after New Year's Day, the day after the 12th day of Christmas, everyone is just about partied out—including me. Observing another special occasion seems almost chore-like. It's hard to rustle up the energy to celebrate. Second, because I think birthdays are important milestones, I always expect to feel different when my birthday rolls around (especially if it's a divisible-by-five birthday)—and I never do. Ever. I just feel like my regular, non-special self, but I have this new number to get used to. And I've felt that way for as long as I can remember.
I always thought I should be in the "yay, it's my birthday!" camp, but I'm just not. This year, I finally decided to be comfortable being uncomfortable with celebrating. I don't party the way other people party, and that's cool.
This year, when I thought I might actually be planning a fancy shindig (since this is a divisible-by-five-and-ten birthday), I'm really enjoying that the fanciest thing I did to acknowledge the end of my twenties was eat flourless brownies that just happened to have zucchini in them.
Simple-fancy. My favorite.
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Pre-birthday bonus simple-fanciness: Ivy can almost get her whole foot in her mouth.