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Monday, March 31, 2008

My Favorite Thing = ?

The Man and I have birthdays nine days apart from each other (one year and nine days apart in age). The Man doesn’t mind his birthday, in fact besides this year, I would say he loves his birthday. He gets tons of attention from his parents, my parents, The Boy, me. He gets presents from The Boy and me. What’s not to love? This year he is turning thirty, and I think that number is hitting him a little bit harder than the others. I’m not sure what makes this year different for him. He usually doesn’t care about age and has said in the past that thirty wouldn’t bother him. Maybe it doesn’t bother him and I’m just reading into the things he says, where he means for them to be in jest and I take them seriously.

I don’t like getting older. I would say that since the age of twelve maybe, I have always hated my birthday. I don’t remember any birthday parties I have had; I remember looking at pictures. All it is to me is getting older. And for whatever reason, I think getting older sucks. Now that I have a kid, I realize that being a kid is great! Who wants to be an adult with adult problems; relationships, work, finances? Ick. I just want to play all day, have the energy to play all day, eat whatever I want without worrying if it will affect my weight, take naps, and have other people take care of me. Needless to say, I am not looking forward to turning 29 this year. I think it might be harder for me than turning 30. Because it’s the LAST year I get to be in my twenties. And I probably won’t even do anything great this year other than going to Disneyland. I will be working for someone who I feel is mean to me, I will stress about finances, I will have to send my one and only baby to kindergarten, I will probably owe income taxes, and although we will have more good times than bad, I won’t be the best mommy and I won’t be the best wife. Sounds like fun.

The Man’s birthday usually eclipses mine for several reasons:

1. His birthday happens first.
2. I handle the finances so I can surprise him with a gift. If he wants to buy me something, he usually has to check with me first.
3. I usually tell him not to get me anything.
4. That’s the way I like it.

This year my mom is planning a surprise with The Boy. Something about dinner and cake, The Boy tells me that’s all I’m allowed to know and that Daddy can’t know anything. My mom says she needs Star Wars figures to put on The Man’s half of the cake. She also said to tell The Boy my favorite thing. Because when she asked him what The Man’s favorite thing is, he came up with Star Wars (duh), but when she asked him what Mommy’s favorite thing is, he said purple. That’s all that either of them could come up with.

When she told me this, I was very sad. Not sad because neither one of them know my favorite thing, but sad because it’s true. I don’t even know my favorite thing. I don’t even like purple that much anymore. I like pink more now. I thought to myself, what do you spend your time doing? That should tell you what your favorite thing is. So here is how I spend my time if I am not sleeping or working:

1. Watching The Boy play Wii.
2. Playing Wii with The Boy.
3. Playing anything else with The Boy.
4. Watching television with The Man.
5. Reading the two magazines I subscribe to.
6. Napping.
7. Listing things on eBay.
8. Scrapbooking.
9. Reading anything I can get my hands on from the internet.
10. Writing blogs.

Items 1 through 4 involve doing something with/for other people. Items 5 and 6 are not really considered hobbies. Although I enjoy it, I do #7 to create additional income, and #8 is not something I do very often (seriously, twice a year?). Finally items 7 and 8 are not really hobbies that can be incorporated into someone’s birthday cake, and they involve staring at a computer screen, which, I don’t know, seems sad. I want there to be something that The Boy can point to and say, Mommy loves that, and have it not be a computer.

I used to; well I guess I still do, love Winnie-the-Pooh. I collected tons of his stuff when I was in high school and for the first few years of our married lives. After The Boy came along, I put most of it away for the sake of space and stopped collecting because we were spending money on diapers, formula, and baby clothes (and Star Wars stuff).

It’s more than just Winnie-the-Pooh though. I know that I allow myself to get lost in the Mommy role and the Wife role. I don’t keep my own identity. That makes this birthday difficult as well. At the age of 29, I think a person has had plenty of time to find themselves and create an identity for themselves. And I haven’t. I’m Mom or Wife and not ever myself. It makes me sad and I have no motivation to do anything about it. I want to be a good example of what a woman should be to The Boy so that he knows what to look for in a woman when he gets older. But I don’t know how.

I wrote the above portion of the post on Friday. Here’s the rest:

Over the weekend we went to the movies and to dinner with another family. During dinner, the other mom said that she asked her husband if he had any dreams of things he wants to do in life. His reply was, “I’ve already done them all.” She was amazed. Yes, his dreams were simple, but he did them and he made sure they got done. There was no question about it. He wanted to get married, get a good job, have kids, buy a house. Those things are all done. The Man said the same thing. He said with the exception of perhaps wanting to teach drums one day, all of his dreams had been realized. I think, too, he would like to travel more, but basically, he has achieved everything in life that he set out to do.

So this mom and I were like, well we still have stuff that we want to do. What’s stopping us? Being Wife and Mommy. Putting others first takes a lot of time, but also energy. Our day is never over. There’s the kids, works, dinner, laundry (which is sooooooooo never ending), cleaning the house, homework, soccer practice, birthday parties, etc. Who has time to do things for themselves? The guys do. I don’t know how they do it, but The Man does it. Once a week he goes out and plays with a band he started. Why then don’t I go out once a week and do something? Guilt! And I don’t know how to get over it. How does The Man get over it? I don’t think he has it to begin with.

This is totally inconclusive, there will be no resolution at the end of this post. I’m not going to change anything, which is not healthy. At least I acknowledge that, I mean that’s supposedly the first step, right? Not being in denial? It was really nice to hear that right after I was feeling these things on Friday that someone else validated my thoughts. Next step: Figure out how to do something about it.

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