Another Year Forgotten

Last week, my dad called me.

Knowing I'd be arriving into town today - a Thursday - we asked, "So, we were thinking of having Grandma and Grandpa over on the Friday or Saturday after you get here for some birthday cake."

There was a long pause.

For the life of me, I couldn't figure out what he was talking about.

I think I even said, "But why, Dad? Grandma's birthday's in November and Grandpa's isn't until after Christmas."

The long pause continued. I mean, we're talking easily 60 to 75 seconds of me going, "What the heck is my Dad thinking?"

Until, finally, the poor guy managed to utter, "Uh, Brittany, 27 years ago..."

And then I remembered.

It's my birthday. Thursday - today - Dec. 15? It's my stinkin' birthday.

And I, honest to goodness, forgot.

I have been so wrapped up in all other aspects of my life, plus caring for this handful of a baby I've got, that, truthfully, I can't believe a year has passed, and I'm another year older. It seems largely insignificant, in the grand scheme of things.

It's so not important in my own mind that, if my father hadn't spoken up, I'd likely have let the day pass with no more than a "Hmm. There's something I'm forgetting about today..."

My mother says this is simply because I have a child now. Or, in her words, "You've ceased to be important."

I'm pretty sure she's referring to my importance in my own mind, though make no mistake about it, when I hop off that plane today, she's going straight for her grand-daughter.

Any birthday wishes I get will only be an afterthought.

Still, I suppose she's right.

Heck, I joked last month that I'd like cloth diapers and some wooden toys for Christmas.

Talk about a major priority shift.

The skinny, toned, childless 21 year old I used to be would be so ashamed.

But then again, when your every worry and concern is wrapped up in everything your baby needs - not to mention bills and laundry and the current flu making the rounds among our neighborhood - the fancy gifts and a fabulous cake aren't ranking that high on the totem pole for me this year.

Who knows? Maybe they never will again.

So, here's to 27; the year I realized I'm no longer important and that birthdays are no longer a big deal.

If you even remember them, that is.

***

Yep. Today's my birthday. I'm a year older.

I don't feel any older or wiser, though I suppose I am. Older, anyway. Wiser is largely up for debate these days.

I am, in fact, celebrating by braving the airports with an infant today. (Thanks for your tips yesterday, by the way!)

And, maybe, my grandparents will share some cake with me this weekend.

Which I'm sure it will be accompanied by a huffy, unsatisfied sigh.

It'll be the sound of the skinny, toned, childless 21 year old I used to be rolling her eyes in exasperation and defeat.

Poor girl. These days, she never gets to come out and play.

Not even on her birthday.

***

Happy Thursday, everyone!