Having a birthday in December is just a fact of life for me, my husband, and my soon-to-be-born baby. Christmas-themed birthday parties flood our memories, especially the times our plastic tree fell down because the rowdy kids were being, well, rowdy! Presents wrapped in Christmas paper, hearing “This is for your birthday and Christmas,” and having lame, indoors, mostly family get-togethers instead of being able to rent bouncy houses or go to the pool. Memories that through the years have jaded us against December birthdays.
Yesterday was my birthday again. Instead of cuddling a newborn, I got to shoo my husband out the door because nothing is happening yet as far as labor goes. Then I spent the day trying to fill the day. Update blog. Wash dishes. More laundry. Check for birthday wishes on Facebook. Feed the kids. Keep kids from killing each other. Nap, maybe. Try and ignore my pedicure that needs to be redone if only I could reach my toes.
There is a very interesting phenomenon that happens when preparing for a new baby. At some point, you are done preparing and the baby isn’t here yet. It’s like time stops. I’ve been waiting 4 full days and entering the 5th today. My house isn’t as clean now. My kids are acting out. I still don’t have a baby, and my husband has to go to work. I don’t have a babysitter or a car. And it is raining.
But there is a bright spot. My husband got me Jamberry for my birthday. Retired Jamberry! So even though I can’t redo my pedicure, I can rearrange my Jam album today. And have Chick Fil-A for lunch, because he got me food too. Sometimes it’s the little things that brighten a cloudy December birthday.
Anyone else wax poetic about December birthdays?
P.S. Yes, it’s true my husband and I were born 3 days apart in December. Having a December baby was not in our plans, but when you are trying for over a year for a third child, you take what you get. Maybe we’ve had more than one discussion about celebrating half-birthdays for this one