Birthdays

We are on the cusp of what we call the "birthday season" here in the Foster house. It starts with me on February 7th, followed by Gracie. (Valentines Day buffers us), then we head into March, were we have Aunt Shea, then Ruby. It's like every week has a celebration attached. It's overwhelming. Especially since we kinda go overboard for birthdays. As a family of 5, with three kiddos, it's tough to find time for everyone, so we make birthdays all about that special someone. It usually involves a lot of dollar store decorating and balloons,dinner of your choice (either prepared or out on the town) and it all begins with breakfast in bed. And that's just the day of the birthday. Parties are another story all together. It's ridiculous, really. I blame myself, of course. I am an only child, and my parents divorced when I was very young, so my birthday was really the only time both parents came together and celebrated. And on the years they didn't spend it together with me, I had two celebrations.
Pretty awesome for a little girl.
When Derek and I were first married, I made a big deal out of birthdays, and he didn't. I guess they weren't a big deal in his family. Through the years, though, he has really gotten into it. Even while deployed, he makes an effort to make it special for each of us. Often rearranging his schedule to stay up to video chat with the kids and see them have their breakfast in bed, or open gifts. It's sweet really.
But then you turn 36, and all of a sudden all that attention for you isn't as fun, or needed... or even wanted. Man, birthdays begin to suck. It's like this day that reminds you of all you left behind; the time, opportunities, the youth wasted, and the aging that lies ahead. I have wasted my fair share of time being miserable. Unhappiness, in any capacity, is just unfortunate. You let so much slip through your hands that you don't even realize the waste.I remember so many regrets vividly, but find that the happy things are harder and harder to bring to the surface of my memory. That, to me, is just scary. And i can't imagine living the next forever like that.
I decided I need to let go of that person I was when I was younger. The thin one, the insecure one, the happy one, the sad one, the one who always made bad decisions, and even the one who made the right ones. I can't ever get any of those Heathers back. I'll never wear a mini skirt again, I'll never drive through Del Taco drunk wearing only my bra and I'll never make googly eyes at the cover band at the club. Those were my 20's and they were fun, but they're gone.
I'm not the unsure ARMY wife I once was. I'm no longer co-dependent I'm not the person who lets people take advantage of her because I'm too nice to say no. My cape has been retired. My early 30's are gone and I'm wiser for them.
Today, I'm going to be the Heather that got married in Vegas, loves nerd movies, would rather hang out with the kids on the couch on a Friday night and goes by Smutt Peddler on the derby rink. I'm the Heather that wants to write erotica and short stories and get paid for it. While I mourn that lost youthful Heather with her grey-less hair and firm skin, it's time to embrace wiser, confident, and much more clever an witty Heather. Grey can be covered and creases can be plumped. Plus, Derek finds my "cougar chest" sexy!
So for all you sweet readers who are heading towards 40 (or have coasted past) embrace this life, make changes that are meaningful and stop looking backwards in regret.
And if you happen to be a sweat reader where 30 looms in the distance, remember to HAVE FUN,fall in love ,make mistakes and wear sunscreen <3 you'll thank me later.