It was my birthday yesterday, just in case you missed the announcements and my not-so-shy reminders from the rooftops. I love birthdays. I think everyone should be celebrated on their birthdays with an outpouring of love and affection and maybe even some cake. I was the happy recipient of an ice-cream cake, two new yoga tops, and several bottles of body lotion, not to mention a sticker proclaiming my status as “Number One Mom”. My husband even unloaded the dishwasher, and you know what that means!
My lovely friend brought me those; aren’t they pretty? Another wonderful friend lent me her daughter’s tiara for the day, which is to say she really knows me well.
A nice upside to a spring birthday is, depending on when Easter falls, the plethora of good chocolates around. My in-laws sent the boys a big box full of treats and I have been surreptitiously absconding with some.
From the vantage point of t + 1, I think that 36 feels pretty good. I’m happily sliding towards 40. I know that aging bothers many – most? – people, but really, it’s better than dying. I mean, sure, it’s disconcerting to see one’s breasts droop bralessly towards one’s navel, or to realize that one’s forehead has deep horizontal lines permanently etched into it, but it is not the end of the world. I’ve been completely grey for years – thanks Dad, for those fabulous genes – but why else was hair colour invented? I know a man who was so upset about turning 40 that he and his wife got into a divorce-worthy fight when she jokingly referred to him as “old”. He admitted that he wished he was still 22. This was years ago and yet I still find that strange. In no way would I want to be 22 again. I don’t know what you were doing when you were 22, but I spent my time dating idiots and having self-esteem crises every other day. I’ll take the slide into cougarville any day over that. In fact, today I’m wearing Seven jeans. Cougar-licious!
Yesterday it was brought to my attention that there is a children’s book dealing with plastic surgery, entitled “My Beautiful Mommy“. I looked at the website and felt fairly soiled for the rest of the day. Plastic surgery in general makes me feel squeamish, but I find those “Mommy Makeovers” are especially vile. Clearly there is a large market for that, and I suppose that if one is getting physically altered and recovering from the process one should really prepare one’s children for it. Nonetheless I do find it sad that our society is so focused on appearances that we cannot celebrate our bodies which have been irrevocably changed by motherhood. Not that I want to proudly display my muffin top with a crop top and Daisy Dukes, but there is something to be said about gracefully aging. There is something to be said about a face with smile lines and a body that has borne, nurtured, and snuggled children. Aging does not have to mean a decline in all of one’s body’s functions and a complete erasure of any physical beauty until one is saved by the sweet release of death.
Which is not to say I didn’t find some humour in the beautiful mommy website. “No, honey, Mommy IS happy. Mommy just can’t smile big anymore! Remember Mommy’s operation?” or “Mommy just can’t close her eyes anymore. Can you find Mommy’s eyedrops?”. “Careful, honey, Mommy’s new boobies are a little bit sore. But remember when we go to Florida this summer, Mommy will be able to float really well!”
So I’m feeling good about my birthdays, many more to come I hope, bringing to me to my eventual goal of becoming Blanche Deveareau and/or a sweet old lady carrying her five pound dog in a handbag, and/or a backbending yogi grandma.
Have a lovely long weekend, everyone!
PS In honour of Earth Day, I have a post up at Yummy Mummy Club. To be honest, it’s not my favourite thing I’ve ever written. Environmentalism is a noble, but somewhat dull topic, in my mind. Evidently I much prefer to write about how to make over the bad boys of movies, or about the evils of skinny jeans, than the environment. It’s hard not to sound like a preachy zealot or, alternatively, like a giant carbon footprint moron. Wow, I’m really selling this post, aren’t I!
PPS I have a new post up at the cooking blog! It’s all about berry crisp and how I am an awesome wife.
First of all Happy, Happy belated Birthday!! I turned 40 this past February and really I have never felt better. I am technically a cougar for another month or so till my husband turns 40 at the end of May. 🙂 I love getting older. Each day is a gift and it is truly a luxury to get to live. So many people are obsessed with youth but they miss the point that we are meant to age, great things are still to come our way. I hope you have a Fabulous Easter!!!
Happy birthday to you! Those flowers are beautiful and the husband unloaded the dishwasher? Wow, that is an excellent gift.
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!
Happy birthday you 😉
I was going to insert tree loving hippie but I thought that would be mean 😉
Xoxo
Happy Birthday. There are some ads on the radio about surgery for mommies and it ticks me off. I have been debating blogging about it. Vile. That is a good word.
LisaDay
We’re the same age – only I’m older so my boobs are probably drooping more. That’s some knowledge that you can hold onto whenever you need buoying up (heh).