Today begins my birthday month. In my forties, I extended my celebration to a week. Now that I'm in my fifties, I'm backing that sucker up to the beginning of the month. This is my official announcement for the three men in my house to begin treating me like a princess. I figure the older I get, the less birthdays I will have, so I deserve more birthday time each year. Sounds logical, right?
This all began as a joke around my 40th birthday. I'd never given much attention to my birthday after I had children, because planning their celebrations was a lot more fun. It also sucked every penny of a birthday budget right out the window because I went big. I mean really big. I planned for months in advance and threw a shindig my little boys would remember. At Worth's Chicka Chicka Boom Boom party, there were 26 activities that began with each letter of the alphabet spread out all over my mom's (Gaga) backyard. Insane, I know. Don't judge. Walker's farm party which featured horseback rides, fishing, games and crafts out at the Johnson's barn was featured on the news. There were photo stations for polaroids at every bash, and each guest received a mounted picture of their child with magnets on the back that made it refrigerator ready. These were cut out of craft foam weeks in advance, and each child's name was usually written with dot letters somewhere on the front. It was extreme, but I loved it. I was a birthday planning queen.
As my boys grew up, the parties became less elaborate. I was disappointed, but it would've been silly to give a 14 year old a photo magnet in their favor bag filled with party-themed toys and candy. Downright ridiculous actually. To be completely honest, I probably would've continued the tradition if my children had let me. They put a stop to my absurd birthday exuberance. I became lost in a sea of birthday boredom.
Instead of wallowing in depression, I decided to turn my attention to my 40th birthday. Now I'll be the first to say that living with three guys has its benefits: there is always someone to kill a roach, they can reach stuff, there's help to bring in the groceries....but you're always outnumbered in movie choices and usually the brunt of their playful teasing. I knew if I relied on them to plan my celebration I would end up with a candle stuck in a filet-o-fish at McDonalds, and that's only if they remembered the candle. So I recruited some friends, and ended up with one of the funnest celebrations I've had to date. My girlfriends called me "princess" for a week, demanded my male crew join in, and spoiled me with plastic tiaras, blinking buttons and sweet gifts. I loved it so much that I continued asking my men to call me "princess" during my birthday week every year thereafter. Of course, this has faded over the years, but some of my girlfriends still send me a "Happy Birthday Princess" message to this day. So cute.
Today, I decided to take it up a notch. I'm submitting the request for birthday princess-type treatment on the first of August from my guys this year. I figure the extended time frame simply gives them more of an opportunity to show just how wonderful they are, can I get an "amen"? Do I have high expectations? Nope. I'm not an idiot. But if it brings me some unrequested help around the house, possibly a card with a sweet handwritten message to save in my memory box, or some additional hugs and "love you ma/babe", then I'm in. Maybe they'll even call me princess from time to time. Miracles happen every day!
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