It's My Party and I'll Cry if I Want To

I turned 34 today.

I've noticed that birthdays have started to seem less and less special the older I get.

Maybe it's because once you have kids, you spend all your time, money and energy throwing ridiculous, elaborate birthday parties for them, leaving nothing for yourself. 

We thought about taking a trip this year to celebrate another year of my life, but ultimately decided it wasn't worth the stress and hassle of planning. Instead, we're going down to Olympia this weekend so my parents can watch Ryder, giving me and Stew an entire afternoon and evening of uninterrupted adult fun. 

We're going to go Christmas shopping, catch a movie, and have a nice dinner on the waterfront. Actually a pretty nice little Saturday. Maybe Bed, Bath, & Beyond, I don't know, I don't know if we'll have enough time. 

But as for today, my actual birthday, it was very quiet.

Stew woke me up with adorable cards and a balloon from him and Ryder, I got some thoughtful things from my new co-workers and bosses, I received an obscene amount of text messages and birthday wishes over social media, and I came home to an exciting mountain of packages on my doorstep, including a birthday Stitch Fix and thoughtful gift from my sister, Erin.

My best friend Tara also sent these lovely flowers, which absolutely made my day. 

Unfortunately Stewart had to work today, so Ryder and I had the evening to ourselves. We went to swimming lessons, and he made my birthday special by whining the evening away until I finally got him to go to sleep.

Now I am cuddled up in bed alone, watching Clark Griswold try to get his Christmas lights working while I write this post on my brand new MacBook Air (I bought one for myself as a birthday gift).

And here I am, one year older. I don't really feel any different.

But I'm looking forward to the year ahead and all the adventures it will bring.