I’m not great at celebrating. Birthdays, Christmas, whatever. Too many expectations, too much pressure, all self inflicted and it almost always results in tears. And it’s taken me to get to the ripe old age of 34 to realise there has to be a better way.
So this year, as my birthday rolled around, we planned low key. Work has been busy, so that helped to shift the focus and with the end of term dramas and Poss deciding that sleep really is no longer required, it just kind of snuck up on me.
It’s not a bad thing. There was still much love, just less fuss. And you know what, it was just right.
I woke early, which is unlike me on a Sunday. So we took advantage of it and went out for breakfast; good coffee and french toast with some kind of boozy apple thing setting the scene. Husband then took me shopping and patiently waited while I picked out shoes, which in and of itself was pretty great.
We then met friends at an outdoor bar thing. Kid friendly, sunshine but lots of shade, old school music (which is important now that I’m officially old), jugs of Pimms, crisp G&T’s and one of the best burgers I’ve had in a very long time. I could have stayed there all day.
Unfortunately, Sundays are notoriously followed by Mondays and you know, that work thing needed to be attended to. Ugh.
But on the upside, this was all followed by a nap. On the couch. While husband quietly amused Poss and organised dinner.
And that was it. Simples. Perfect. Family, friends, new shoes and gin.
Really, does a girl need anything else? Not a bad way to kick off the next year.
If only someone could convince Poss to sleep, all would be right in the world.