Was yesterday. I turned 33 yesterday and woke up with a sore hip. I joked to C that perhaps I was turning 60 instead of 33.
I love my birthday. I always have high hopes for it to be a special day and now that I'm older and have kids and everyday life to deal with maybe the expectation should be lowered. I mean, other than a few family members, friends and my own husband, who really cares that it's my birthday.
That said, I did expect a little more than what I got. I should start with a disclaimer though. C is a wonderful husband and I consider myself lucky every day that he chose me. He is thoughtful and kind and absolutely the love of my life.
However, I did expect him to do something special for me. He ended up buying me a present because I never made up my mind about what I wanted. And that's fine. He bought me something that I've wanted that have never bought for myself due to cost. But he gave it to me 5 days early, in the bag from the store, unwrapped with no card or fanfare.
And yesterday turned out to be just another day. Nothing special for dinner, no flowers or special dessert, just a typical evening at home. It wasn't a bad evening at all, it just wasn't special.
For his birthday I not only bought him a present but snuck a card into his lunch and made him a special dinner followed by a homemade dessert. The dinner was not on his actual birthday but I planned it and told him in advance that I was doing it.
And the other thing that sucked? I made cookies to bring to work for my own birthday and not a single person even asked why I did it. The guys all just grabbed cookies and ate them without even questioning why they showed up. So not a single person in the office even knew it was my birthday - not that I wanted it to be a huge deal but it would have been nice to at least hear a few Happy Birthdays.
First world problems, I know. But it's been bugging me. I suppose it's time to lower my expectations.