Happy Birthday To Me!

Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday dear me! Happy birthday to me!

Yep, you guessed it: It’s my birthday. Another year gone, another year older.

Birthdays used to be so exciting. I remember looking at the calendar in anticipation when I was younger, counting down the days until I got to eat cake and open presents. It was nearly impossible to go to sleep the night before.

I’d wake up early, go into my parents’ bedroom, and the entire family would gather around for gift opening. I would be freed of my morning duty of making my bed, and would skip off to school.

Going to school on my birthday was the best. I loved handing out my homemade birthday treats to my classmates (ah, the days when it was safe and acceptable to bring homemade treats). I’d race home after school (I have to insert another “ah” here: Ah, the days when walking home from school alone was safe) and get busy playing with my new toys.

Having a Saturday birthday was even better – I got to sleep in AND play with my toys all day.

My dear mother always made whatever meal I requested, and my favorite cake – usually something with a lot of chocolate. We invited aunts, uncles, and cousins to help celebrate.

Now that I’m a grown-up and a mother, birthdays are still fun, but they sure aren’t the same as when I was young.

The excitement and anticipation are still there, but the night before the big day is sleepless because of frequent breastfeeding, not because of adrenaline.

I briefly consider abandoning my morning duties – making our bed, emptying and loading the dishwasher, rinsing poopy diapers, and doing laundry – but quickly decide against it when I realize no one will pick up my slack, and it will just mean twice as much work the next day.

I don’t go to school. In fact, this year, I didn’t even go outside. When your birthday happens to fall on the same day as a major snowstorm, going out with a 6-month-old baby isn’t exactly a good idea.

I still got to play with my new “toys,” however, and my husband made my requested meal and favorite cake. Just like when I was young, we invited family over to help celebrate.

As far as special treatment goes, adults might still be extra nice to me, but my daughter doesn’t know the difference. She still cries like normal, poops like normal, and, of course, snuggles like normal.

I tried explaining to her that, because it’s my birthday, she really shouldn’t be fussy at all today.

I’m not holding my breath.

Multitasking

My daughter has an insatiable curiosity these days. She wants to know what everyone is saying, doing, eating, and holding. She wants to touch and taste anything and everything she can get her drool-covered hands on. No more are the days when I can hold her on my lap and expect whatever food or drink is in my hand to remain un-spilled. I have to be on a constant guard.

I’ve always made a point to talk to her and explain everything I am doing. “Now Mommy is pouring the hot water into the mug for her tea,” or, “Daddy is taking out his computer to do his work.” I do this to help her develop a good vocabulary, and also to keep her entertained. Now that she likes to touch things, I make a point to talk about what I am doing and, whenever safe and appropriate, let her feel what I am doing.

She was a little cranky today and wanted to be walked, so I decided to take her on a tour of the house and let her touch and hear the names of everything. “Snowman,” “plant,” “picture frame,” and “TV” were some of the items she got to touch and hear the names of.

About 30 seconds into the tour, I was struck with a genius idea: Why not dust and tour at the same time?

You might not be excited about this idea, but I was. I’m at home all day with an almost 6–month-old child. She’s a people person. She likes to be held and talked to. On the other hand, my husband is a carefree sort of guy. The kind that puts things down when he’s finished with them, and then forgets to put them away. I’m constantly battling to keep my house clean and organized and also keep my baby happy. The idea that I could kill both birds with one stone filled me with joy.

We had a delightful 15-minute walk around the house. She was eager to look at, hear about, and touch everything I picked up, and I was relieved to wipe the dust from under each object. Happy baby? Check. Cleaner house? Check. Satisfied mother? Double check!

My Decision To Stay Home

When people hear that I quit my teaching job to be at home fulltime with my daughter, they often respond, “You are so lucky that you can afford to do that.”

I indeed feel very lucky. I know I’m blessed, and I’m thankful for it. Contrary to what people might think, however, I don’t stay home because we have piles of money just sitting around. I don’t live in a situation where we have so much money that I decided I might as well not work. In fact, my husband is a fulltime student. Not only do we not have piles of money, we hardly have any. We make it work, though, because me staying home always been a priority in our family.

Our decision for me to stay home means we don’t do some of the things other couples our age are doing.

We don’t own a house, yet, and won’t have enough money for a down payment for quite awhile. Some people might call paying rent a waste of money, but I’d rather waste my money than miss out on my daughter’s baby years.

We don’t go out on dinner/movie dates often. Some may say we aren’t taking care of our marriage if we don’t regularly go out. I respond with, “Eating a good home-cooked meal and renting a movie while our daughter is taking a nap is just as romantic to us – and a lot cheaper!”

We like to be fashionable, but we do it in a different way. I don’t get my nails or my hair done professionally, but I’ve learned how to do my own nails and my own hair. We don’t buy clothes whenever we want, and we don’t buy them full-priced; however, we hit the clearance racks at the end of each season and find very nice clothes for a fraction of the price.

We don’t go on elaborate vacations. Instead, we fly to visit our family members, where the food and lodging are free. We camp instead of staying in hotels. We shop at grocery stores and cook instead of going out to eat.

Some people may call these things a sacrifice, but we don’t view it that way at all. If I ever start to wish we had more money, I try to flash-forward to when I’m eighty. When I’m eighty, I won’t look back on my life and think, “I wish we’d gone out to eat more,” or, “If only I could have gotten my nails done every week.”

In contrast, if we decided today that I should go back to work so that we could afford the things we do without, I am fairly certain that when I’m eighty, I’d have regrets. I’d wish I had spent more time with our children.

The bottom line for us is that people are more important than things. We love that the first thing our daughter sees every day when she wakes up in the morning or from her naps is one of our faces. We cherish being able to rock her to sleep. Giving her consistency in her life means more to us than anything money can buy.