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Wednesday, April 16, 2008
Birthdays and braces
At some point this year, I lost track of my own age (they call that dementia, don’t they?) and thought I had already turned 42, thereby missing part of my 41st year.
I didn’t realize my mistake till my Birthday Eve. It went something like this:
Me (to self, looking forlornly into the mirror): “(Heavy sigh) I’m almost 43. Another year bites the dust. (another sigh)”
Me (to self, in surprised voice after doing the math): “Hey, wait a minute! I’m only going to be 42!”
I have renewed vigor now. I’ve come up with a plan on how I can regain my lost youth: I’ve decided that this will be my 41st birthday, since I was cheated out of the full year the first go-round. This is will be 41(b) — like a 401(k) only younger. And I promise I’ll jump to 43 next year. …
I’m going home at 2 a.m. and waking up Hubby to share a glass of birthday champagne and a fancy DLM pastry a friend at work brought me tonight. Hubby and I both have April birthdays — I’m only seven days older — so we feel it’s our birth right to party the whole week long.
And thus begins the annual Week of Old Fart Jokes at our house, with Hubby never missing an opportunity to remind me that I’m MUCH older than he is. …
Hubby took the kids and the Birthday Girl to “breakfast for dinner” at First Watch (a Newspapers in Education event), which was a big sacrifice for him. He may be the only person in America who doesn’t like pancakes, omelettes and bacon at any time of the day. Weird, huh? He should consider it payback for all those jokes. …
Best present ever: After spending the afternoon of my birthday at the orthodontist’s office with my 9-year-old daughter, listening to scary talk about the actual out-of-pocket cost of a perfect smile and seeing scary pictures —no one looks good with their lips peeled back— of her crowded canines, our wonderful ortho (Dr. Stephen Burke) said we should take it slow and wait to see what happens as she loses more baby teeth.
No braces yet! Hooray! A 6-month reprieve for my wallet! …
Speaking of expensive tastes: The good Lord willing and the creek don’t rise, my daughter will have her first double-digit birthday in France this summer. She is so excited she just may burst by then.
And who could blame her? The anticipation of patisseries, French cheeses, and melt-in-your-mouth pate has kept me going these long winter months.
Happy Birthday to Me!
