Another Year

Today I turn 34. Ah, birthdays...

As a child, I would make myself sick with excitement in the weeks leading up to my birthday.  I'd count down the days and the months with anticipation of something fantastical.  But, not surprisingly, that fantasy always left me hanging.  Every year I'd face disappointment and tears.  Because it could never live up to my crazy unfounded ideas about what my birthday should be.  Over the years I tried to scale back my expectations, but for some reason even that tended to jinx things for me.  No matter how modest the plans there has almost always been some level of disappointment.  Kind of embarrassing, really.  Always plotting a rush, as my father-in-law would say.

This year the plans are modest again, but already seem like they'll be much more fun. (Wait, is that me with too many expectations again?)  To start with, instead of trudging to the office I woke with the cutest little girl I've ever seen, snuggled into her soft little self and kissed her delectable cheeks.  After brewing my coffee and adding a little "holiday schedule" for proper merriment, I sat down to an elegant breakfast of Cheerios (for me and Beanie) and spoon-fed coconut yogurt into the silliest little face while she spat it back at me. 

My best friend Christine will be over soon to share the day playing with Cora, making lunch and just having some girl time.  Then tonight when Nick comes home, we'll snack on some of our favorite things (baguette, St. Andre cheese and olives) and head to Portland's Candy Cane Lane, picking up Thai food on the way home.  Sounds downright lovely.  Are my expectations too high? Am I bound to shoot myself in the foot and go to bed hating my birthday yet again, my silly pre-school ideas once again put to rest?  I guess we'll see.

But for now, I'm going to clean the yogurt off a pretty little face and get ready to enjoy the one thing that has brought me more joy than I'd ever thought possible:  my little girlie girl.  What a lucky, lucky mumma am I.