Birthdays are a BIG deal.
A HUGE deal.
The absolute best day of any person's year.
Who couldn't possibly feel that way about their birthday?
Every year as his birthday approaches I ask, "Anything you want for your birthday?"
His reply is always the same, "Nothing."
And then I purchase a bunch of "stuff" that he really doesn't care about, but politely opens and either consumes, wears or uses.
A couple of years ago I quit doing balloons for him. (A Sowby birthday tradition anyone else would be devastated to miss out on.)
Last year, I quit "trying" for him, and he chose a quiet day with activities of his own choosing.
This year. I got him NOTHING.
Not one single present.
Not even Hot Tamales. Or Werthers. Or Orange Slices. Or cashews. Or Cinnamon Bears.
He didn't even care.
And guess what?
I didn't really either.
(I thought I would, but I didn't.)
All he asked for this year was, "Good kids."
Which he didn't exactly get, if you consider Drew's behavior during dinner. Of course in front of our out-of-town cousin/dinner guest.
It was one of my favorite birthdays of his. So was last year. Too bad it took me 17 years of marriage to figure that out. But alas I did...July 20th won't really be anything special around here anymore except for a dinner of his choosing (maybe), and ice cream pie (definitely).
Happy Birthday Mike.
This is how he feels about it for me.
Works for him.
But if he thinks this is the new norm for birthdays when October 22nd comes around, and it is time to celebrate ME, I won't be happy.