Ew. I'm having another birthday. I know the alternative is worse, but for some reason this one is kicking me in the butt. I have that yucky, heavy, sadness clinging to my skin. My kids are sooo excited and Nicholas is ready to burst with joy and song. They are my heart and I feel guilty. It seems to me that instead of making New Year's resolutions, I make birthday resolutions, and this year I didn't succeed. I don't even know if I truly enjoyed this last year or if I just let it slip by in a tangled mess of dirty clothes and playdates.
Looking at it through Nicholas' eyes, I need to appreciate the day as a single entity. To him it sparkles. It's a day of non-stop cake and ice cream and toy after toy parading through his hands. It isn't a day of evaluation and remorse. Maybe, just maybe, I need to redefine my definition of success and re-evaluate my plans for next year. I have made some wonderful friends this year (the kind you just know are kindred spirits and that don't judge your craziness) and my children have thrived. Is it enough? It should be... I think I'll reserve today for bellying up to the cake and enjoying each and every moment of my children and friends and let tomorrow come as it will. Tomorrow I can make my lists and come up with a new year's game plan and start over. Maybe I can reinvent myself and erase what I don't like and begin again. But for today, can I actually live in the moment? I don't know. Today will be a test of sorts; an impromptu evaluation of my capacity for joy. Hopefully, after another cup of coffee, my joy will become clearer, more sparkly (just like my children's)... before I begin muddling it with an evening of birthday wine. Cheers.