July 27th edged out December 26th as the Most Depressing Day of the Year in 2001 when I turned 25 and realized that it was all downhill from here. And I was lucky enough to be careening down that hill in a runaway dump truck annihilating every mailbox filled with crow's feet, age spots and cellulite on the road.
Yesterday the blow of turning another year older was softened with cards, flowers and phone calls but today I'm just left with bitter reality and knowing that my response to "how old are you" will now be an even bigger lie.
The other sad part of turning a year older is that birthdays are very different than what they used to be - each year a little more anti-climatic.
Yesterday when I was emptying the dishwasher, in between contemplations of whether or not you can turn a dishwasher on from the inside I reminisced about birthdays of yore. It was only four short years ago that I piled into the back of a mini van with 20 of my closest friends and that many cases of beer like a bunch of illegal immigrants crossing the Arizonian border and partied until the wee hours of the morning.
Notice the beautiful glisten of the illegal open containers that will slice our faces wide open if we have an accident because we're not wearing seat belts. Oh the bliss of thoughtless irresponsibility and total disregard for the safety of others! To be young again...
Last night Nick and I celebrated a wild and crazy birthday by taking Ellie to get her first haircut, then spent the remainder of our evening browsing around Babies R Us for a new double stroller. Which I paid for with a coupon.
The highlight of my night was the free bowl of fried ice cream that I scored at the Mexican restaurant. Except it wasn't really fried ice cream, it was ice cream with corn flakes and a shitload of whipped cream piled on top. Which Ellie ate most of and the small amount I did eat left me with crippling heart burn that haunted me all night.
Oh, hang on a second.
Ok, I'm back... have you ever sobbed so hard you launched yourself into an uncontrollable fit of vomiting? I find it usually passes after a few hours.
While I was busy turning one year older, Ellie turned about 20 years older after her first haircut. Because she has the ability to morph from sweet innocent baby to demonic hell child faster than you can say "make sure the stake pierces its heart", we took her to a place that specializes in kids cuts and provides enough distraction for even my ADD riddled husband to be entertained for 5 minutes.
The minute they put the cape on her she immediately aged five years, and by the time they were done snipping she looked like she was ready for her briefcase and pre-work cigarette.
I was afraid that something like this would happen so I prolonged it as long as possible. As you can see from the first picture, her bullet (baby mullet) was in full effect and she could have easily landed a job at her choice of the finest carnivals nationwide.
So the remainder of the day will be spent convincing myself that Ellie is still my baby and the best is yet to come. I'm just going to need to burn those pictures of my 30th birthday party first.
2 comments:
Such raw emotion! I LOVE it, even though I realize it does nothing to assuage your despair.
I can absolutely relate to your misery, as I celebrated my birthday 2 weeks ago - mine was celebrated with my husband as he picked up his packets and prepared for his first 1/2 ironman in Racine, WI. Oh wait, first though I cleaned out my husband's SUV, because I was mortified to think that my in-laws might find it necessary to drive it with my 2 little guys.
Had I been pregnant, I'm not sure I could have held back my wretching from the copious amounts of crumbs, dried applejuice, and other questionable remnants that were scraped off with my index fingernail.
I did get to have a sit down lunch with him though, which was nice spending some time alone (b/c as you know that is a rarity anymore).
It is rather depressing to come to terms with the fact that I'm on the "otherside" of 35.... (still sends a shiver down my spine, even after 2 weeks of it under my belt).
We should defintely make a plan to get together and drown our sorrow in something decadent ;-)
Yes, Amy, the reality of my life started to sink in as I finished my third load of laundry. I'm always game for drowning sorrows in decadence - just let me know when!
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