I forget when birthdays started to be just another day to me. I think it was somewhere around the time I became a Mama. We had a relaxed dinner for my thirtieth, with close friends...and my sweet eight month old first born in tow. Each year since remains a bit of a blur. I recall my own Mama sharing a similar sentiment when I was a child. Though I couldn't understand it at all, back then. I would get ridiculously excited over her birthday and want to make her day as special as she was to me. Because after all, she made every one of mine, a warm and wonderful celebration.
And that same, beautiful, enthusiasm came full circle for me on the weekend, as the boys went about making their own little fuss over mine (and Scott's) birthday. The hand written cards, the smooches and cuddles, the half hourly reminders of it being my "special day" , had me feeling very loved indeed. The best birthday present, ever. The inclusion of our precious Bonny this year, just completed the package for this rather tired and exhausted, thirty six year old Mama. So we partied by having our favourite pizzeria for dinner and an ice cream cake, as suggested by Angus, for afters. I'm more than happy for my birthday to look something like this for a while to come.