My 29th Birthday: Part 3, Pizzazz

 

 That 10^th Birthday was the best of my childhood.  My birthdays didn’t improve much over the next 19 years.   For the most part, I was always alone, always craving family.

I don’t know if the lack of my own birthday party pizzazz is what has been my driving force, but I love other people’s birthdays.  I would throw a birthday party for a stranger.  I’m not exaggerating, I really would.

I have thrown my husband and children some pretty fun birthday parties. 

Yet when July rolls around, I start feeling depressed.  I feel guilty taking people away from their families, and I feel guilty that spending the time with my little family hasn’t been enough to satisfy me. 

This year I’ve done a lot of personal healing through a Bible Study, and spending more time than ever with God. 

Last week, just after midnight on Wednesday, I was lying in bed with my husband when we decided we’d try to throw a birthday party for me the next day.  I lined it all up through a Facebook event and didn’t call or talk to anyone about it in person unless they brought it up first.  I vowed to not burden my friends with my birthday, and to be grateful no matter what. 

The results? A simple backyard birthday party with a small group of people that I love.  We roasted hotdogs and marshmallows.  We talked, laughed, sang and ate cake.  The kids did sparklers as it got dark, and I went to bed with a smile on my face.  It was wonderful.  My favorite birthday of my adulthood. 

 

 

Oh and you know what?  My dad even showed up.  It brought tears to my eyes, and reminded me that time together is the most important. 

This year my birthday was less about the details of the party, and more about my heart.  God has been transforming my heart into a more grateful one.  One that slows, and observes.  One that praises and thanks.  One that desires more of HIM and less of everyone and everything else. 

My 29th Birthday: Part 2, Carnies, The Roar of a Motorcycle, Fried Chicken, and a Jewelry Box

It was 4^th of July weekend and I was home alone.  We lived a block from the carnival, which brought in allllll sorts of people.  The “carnies” parked their campers at the end of the opposite block.  I was given strict warnings about keeping the doors to the house locked.  Hundreds of people walked past our house that day.

Every sound I heard made me jump, or peek out the curtain with wide-eyes.  I spent much of that hot July day under a blanket, because I assumed if I couldn’t see the bad guys, they couldn’t see me. 

I was sitting on the couch when I heard the roar of a motorcycle pull up into the front yard.

While that sound may scare others, it brought me comfort.  When I heard the loud pipes made even louder by being positioned directly outside the window, I knew MY DAD WAS HOME! 

This was only Friday though; I wasn’t expecting him to be back until Sunday.  And my mom wasn’t with him, so I assumed something was wrong. 

My heart raced.

I ran to the door. 

I squeezed him just as tight as I could.

He told me to put long pants on, we were going out for a ride.

He took me to the Barrel Drive In and gave me two gifts, which I am still using today.

The first gift was a little wooden jewelry box.

 

If you’ve spent any time here at all you know that I am NOT a sentimental person.  So the fact that I’m still using this is mostly just because it’s still very functional.  A little banged up, yes, but very functional.  Okay, and maybe it holds a small special place in my heart because the bottom is signed by “Dad”.

The second gift, was the best of all. 

It was the gift of just being there.

Just being with my dad.

Quality time together isn’t my love language, but it is my husband’s. 

I remember how good it felt that day to have my dad with me.  When my husband starts mentioning that we haven’t had a lot of time together, I used to start planning extravagant dates and lining up sitters. 

Sometime though my mind shifted and I remembered that quality time can be something as simple as eating fried chicken together, going for a walk, or just having an uninterrupted conversation. 

 

Thank you, Dad, for all that you’ve not only given me, but also taught me. 

Love,

Your Little Girl

My 29th Birthday: Part 1, RSVPs, Phonebook, Cigarettes, Disappointment, and a Surprise

 

 

29. I turned 29 yesterday.

 

When I was in 5^th grade I invited every girl in my grade to my birthday party.  I hand wrote invitations and my mom drove me all around town to stick the cards in each girl’s mailbox.  Back then RSVP’ing was practically legally binding, and everyone did it.  Guess how many RSVPs I got back???  0.   ZERO.  Nada.  NONE.

Still, I held out hope that some of the girls would come. 

My mom said if I had gotten back any RSVPs she’d stay and help me throw a party.  But since no one was coming, she was headed off to a motorcycle rally with my dad.  This was their yearly get-away for just the two of them, they’d been attending this for years. 

Sometimes it fell directly on my birthday, sometimes my birthday was their recovery day.

Either way, I felt screwed.

Just to be sure I covered all my bases- I got out the big heavy black and yellow phone book, looked up the phone numbers of each girl, and called them myself.

Dial tone… The beep of each number being pressed.. The ringing… Oh the anxiety.. Then the “Hello?”

I got the same answer each time.  They were sorry, but they couldn’t attend.  Some even felt like they needed to let me know it was 4^th of July weekend, so they would be spending it with their family.

Bastards. 

I wanted to spend the day with my family.  Or their family, I didn’t really care.  I just hated being alone.

When party day came my parents were out of town. I have no idea where my older brothers were, but they weren’t home.  I’m guessing with friends.

 I cleaned up the house, tried to gather snacks from the cupboards, and penned birthday signs out of notebook paper and taped them to the door.  I did all I could to make it seem like a real PARTY.

Two girls showed up, hours after the official party time had ended, and not even because they knew it was my birthday.  They were at my house for a total of about 15 minutes.   The first girl was a classmate who came because she was out wandering the town on her own (uninvolved parents?), and the second was the little neighbor girl who just came over to play.  The first girl tried teaching us how to roll our own cigarettes, which was pencil shavings and that same notebook paper that I had made into my birthday sign.

I still get flashbacks to that day when I use our electric pencil sharpener.

Although the skill seemed interesting, I knew it was wrong, wrong, wrong.  I knew my parents would beat my butt (really, and it was legal back then) if they found out, so I kicked her out.  She said I was stuck up, and she never liked me after that. 

You know what though?  Now at 29, looking back, she never liked me before that, so I suppose it’s no biggie.  Ugh, why did I waste tears on that?

I’m pretty sure she’s still rolling her own cigs today, although from what I know (thanks Facebook) she’s upgraded from pencil shavings to the hard stuff.  Poor girl.  I really do wish I could’ve helped her.

The point is, even though that “party” sucked, I tried my best using what my 10 year old self had available.  That’s important in all areas of life.  Parties are not excluded.  They don’t need to be big and fancy; they just need to be real.

 

I did get one surprise that birthday...  I actually still have it.  Stay tuned, I’ll take a picture and share it with you in my next blog post.

Happy 40th Wedding Anniversary to MY Parents

From my Facebook:

"Sorry for the mushy-gushy post, but this is a SHOUT OUT to my parents. On June 14th they celebrated 40 years of marriage. 40 YEARS!! Who even does that anymore? ;)
I feel like it's quite the accomplishment! My parents' marriage relationship has taught me a lot of things, but the greatest is how to love, and keep on loving, despite the toughest trials or even the highest highs. They're devoted to each other through it all. I'm so glad I get to be their kid! ♥♥♥"

Thanks Mom

Warning, Real Life Post:
I just hit an awful reality. After walking past this humongous nasty dust bunny a couple times (after I already cleaned the floors), I realized no one else is going to pick it up.

I'm the mom now. 

Ugh, so not fun.  This may be a little late, but THANKS MOM, for always picking up the dust bunnies.  And for everything else.  I know now that you did far more than I've thanked you for, and surely more than I've even realized yet.
#keepingitreal #loveyoumom