A birthday is just a day in the calendar. Or so I like to tell myself. Just like Mother’s Day, any expectations higher than that would just lead to some level of disappointment. Yes, the kids like to show their love first thing in the morning. And yes Martin does his best to make it special. But inevitably the day will continue on like any other: the kids will fight, Martin will get frustrated with them, I will need to be the peacemaker and my hopes and desires for the day get put on the back burner all to avoid yelling and tears.
I also don’t like to put too much thought or stock into the passing of another year and embarking on the next. Does it mark the start of something new, does it set the tone for the new year, or is it just another day to get through. My birthday this year could mean wildly different things depending on the hour of the day and how you look at it:
Morning: I woke up on a pull out sofa in a cheap hotel in a B Side City. We were in Morgan Hill for a soccer tournament and the only hotel we could find was a Quality Inn. The good news: it was directly across the street from the soccer fields. The bad news: the only room available was a king bed with a single pull out couch. I took the couch to stop Martin and Oskar arguing about sleeping arrangements the night before. And of course as a result of both the pull out couch (my problem) and Martin sleeping between the two kids in the king (his problem) none of us slept well.
Should I interpret this as a sign of what to expect of this year? Or am I starting the year off at rock bottom and it will only get better?
Midday: I had a feeling that Oskar’s team wasn’t going to make the playoffs so with the entire afternoon free and half of the drive already done, I told the family that I wanted to go to Pinnacles National Park after the tournament for a hike. To no one’s surprise or disappointment, the team didn’t make the playoffs, so we grabbed sandwiches in town and then drove the additional 90 minutes south to check out our newest national park.
Unfortunately for us, the road we were supposed to take to get to the planned hike (Bear Gulch Cave Trail) was closed with an unknown time to reopen. Apparently the parking lots were full and so instead of sending cars endlessly up the one way road to battle it out, they simply closed the road. We pulled into the overflow parking lot near the campground to eat lunch and possibly take a different hike. It was a huge bummer to drive all that way and not be able to see the caves. Once again, it felt like the birthday curse had struck. But did it really? Turns out not at all. The roads re-opened right as we finished lunch. We hopped in the car and were one of the first cars past the gate and, even better, we were able to secure one of the ten parking spots at the trailhead. If we had gotten there any earlier or later it wouldn’t have lined up more perfectly.
Could I take this to mean that I might have some setbacks this year but they will end up being for the best?! Or will I just hit a few roadblocks and deal with it?
The hike was amazing by the way. The kids loved the cave section so much that they opted to do it again on the way back. Martin took one for the parenting team and went with them so I could finish the loop.
Evening: We got home from the hike early in the evening and we made plans to order Chinese food for my birthday dinner after we all rinsed off. Alva was the first in the shower and I took the opportunity to talk with Cody and Brenda on FaceTime. Cody and Brenda wished me happy birthday while enjoying their Sunday martinis (a birthday celebration I would have loved to join in on) while Alva slowly dissolved into hysterical crying because she got soap in her eyes and I wasn’t there to help. From there, things went downhill fast to the point where I gave up hopes of dinner and I contemplated either leaving the house to get a birthday martini by myself or locking myself in the bedroom for a pity party. I chose the latter. No dinner, no fun, no great end to the day. Just me, hiding in the bedroom while Martin tried to console Alva and feed the kids leftovers. During my self imposed isolation, I was able to play my NY Times puzzles where the spanogram for Strands was “ Nothing special”. Sounds about right and no ambiguity there.
My motherly instincts eventually kicked in and I went to the kids to tell them good night and gave Alva a big hug to let her know that while I needed some time for myself I still loved her. While I was disappointed with the evening, I can’t say that I was surprised.
Here’s to hoping this is not a sign of things to come but rather the bottom of the hill and the only way out is up.
In the meantime, I am officially changing my “birthday” to the “anniversary of being able to drink”, which I celebrated one week later at Bulls Tavern in San Luis Obispo. Happy 25th Anniversary to me.
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