Holidays are tough around here. The “mom” holidays are the worst because the kids conflate them with bio mom. Once that happens, trauma can taint everything. Having children adopted from foster care really changed the holiday game for us.
My birthday is no exception. The best play for me is usually to set my expectations low. Then I lower them some more. I try to fly under the radar and just do what’s fun for me sans kiddos.
I do this on Mother’s Day, too. It sounds counter-intuitive but trust me, it’s necessary. This therapeutic parenting gig is HARD.
I turned 37 this week. I have to say this turned out to be a very different birthday than expected.
-Luke drove Carl to camp and let me sleep in.
-I went with my mom for mani-pedis while Carl was at day camp.
-Both Luke and Carl brought me coffee and cleaned the house a bit.
-I called Mary in the morning just to hear her little voice. She sang “Happy Birthday” loudly and off-key (which is the best way.) Then she called back later to do it again!
-My mom also sang “Happy Birthday” to me, albeit, in a slightly quieter and slightly less-off-key fashion. I’ll still giver her credit, though.
-My BFF sent me a Kitchen-Aid mixer in a beautiful shade of blue.
-I finally figured out how to load my Amazon Music playlist. Score!
-Marcus didn’t call.
-Marcus showed up the following day and I (stupidly) thought he came for my birthday. Sometimes he really does pull off something incredibly sweet. This wasn’t one of those times.
-Marcus came with his new mommy to collect all of his things and demand a TV (denied.) In dramatic Marcus fashion he stormed out, but not before ripping his closet doors off completely. He didn’t even speak to me.
Overall this was one of my better birthdays. I had a good day. I enjoyed it thoroughly. The next day wasn’t as great but Luke and I ended it well. We curled up in our room to watch an apocalyptic move (the best kind) all by ourselves. It was wonderful.
**Names have been changed to protect the privacy of those involved.