Today’s my birthday. Yet another year when my birthday has been either totally uninteresting or sucked.
So I’m done. No more birthdays for me. You wanna get me presents, call me to wish me a happy day … that’s fine. But until I can really spend my birthday doing EXACTLY what I want, I’m done celebrating it.
Maybe when Darwin’s a little bit older and birthdays are super duper important to him, then they’ll seem like a big deal to me again. Honestly though, we’re just celebrating the passage of time. Nobody really remembers that this is the day when someone GAVE BIRTH to you, the day that you were brought into the world. That’s what should be celebrated. That’s where the hullabaloo should be.
And that’s all I have to say about that.