On my 39th birthday, I raised my glass and made a declaration, “I’m going to Vegas for my 40th!”
“Let’s do it!” They chanted.
“I’m in!” they yelled.
As the months went by, we contacted travel agents, picked dates and hotels. We were absolutely going to Vegas for my 40th birthday.
Then Christmas came and decisions needed to be made. I really needed a new camera if I was going to take my photography seriously. I was forced to make a practical decision, a Canon over a Plane Ticket.
My husband is constantly trying to make my birthday special, so he promised to celebrate me… I hate celebrating me. Every year for 39 years I have absolutely hated my birthday. I have hated the attention, I do NOT like surprises ( DO. NOT.) and don’t like the moments of reflection that birthdays cause for me. My 30th sent me into a 6 month depression. I got a cake stand and a mud scraper for my front porch. Nothing says your getting old like a mud scraper.
The weeks leading up to my big day, my man made plans and calls and surprised me… not with Vegas, but with Austin, to go see a Motown Band that I absolutely love. We made the reservations, my mom bought me a super cute black dress and OH! the Michael Kors heels I found on sale at Dillard’s, and I never go to Dillard’s. It was meant to be.
Exactly one week before the big 4-0, Michael and I sat down to our Valentine’s day lunch and my phone buzzes, “HI, this is the nurse from Zac’s school…”
He needs to be picked up.
I remained hopeful he would heal. My Bestie from Florida came to visit for a few days and kept me focused on fun, ushering in my new decade with an embrace.
And then Saturday night came, “Mom, I can’t breathe.”
One ER visit….then 5 hours later another….
and then this happened….
We canceled our reservations in time to get a refund and then hung out in the intermediate care unit crossing our fingers (and saying our prayers) that l would at least to get to sleep in my own bed for my birthday.
But instead, I kicked it old school and celebrated my 40th in the hospital where I celebrated my very birth. My best friend brought me presents, my other super great friend brought me Nothing Bundt Cake, Zac was feeling better. My plans of embracing 40 were a bust, but I seriously didn’t even care anymore. I just wanted to sleep.
I did finally get my rest in my own bed. And OH! that nice long, glorious shower. A new weekend was upon us, and a group of my homegirls were determined to not let my birthday slip by without a bang….so a bang it was.
Kidnapped at (nerf) gunpoint, I was taken to dinner and dancing and to sleepover. Zac said, “Mom, you should wear your heels.” So I did.
While I was gone my husband worked tirelessly to refinish my grandmother’s vanity for me and re-did our room! He said that wasn’t my present, but it was a beautiful gift. For my Big Birthday he wanted to buy me a tattoo…I so desperately wanted a tattoo, but I needed a laptop. So yes, I went practical and got a new laptop instead.
Zac isn’t out of the woods, he’s missed so. much. school and we go to see the specialist next week.
As for me, I’m done celebrating this birthday and most likely every other one. Now that I’m 40 I know so much. It’s amazing what you learn, BANG, just like that. I know that I”m grateful we didn’t have plans to go to Vegas, because I may not have been there when Zac got sick. I know that birthdays just aren’t my thing, and I don’t have to pretend that they are. I also know that sometimes a fizzle is just practicality and practicality sometimes is what takes you the furthest in life. And you can go anywhere you want in Michael Kors heels.
What big “BANGS” in life have you had planned that just slowly fizzled? Comment and share with me.