This weekend (Saturday) I “celebrated” my 34th birthday. I use the word celebrate really loosely here, because in reality… it was probably the most boring birthday ever. In pastyears for my birthday I would get up super early to give myself the gift of running. But not this year… in fact this year I spent most of the day laying (on my side) trying to feel comfortable.
I was planning on making pancakes for my breakfast, but ended up making my birthday pancakes for dinner on Thursday night. So I just had my typical bowl of overnight oats. That’s fine with me, it’s a yummy breakfast and it’s one of the few things that sounds appetizing to me lately.
We did make a stop at Retro Bakery to get cupcakes, because lemon cake on my birthday is essential. I elected to not make reservations at a chef-y restaurant for dinner because I had no idea what the weekend would hold. But I’m actually kind of glad about this decision. I missed the experience of a nice meal out, but my husband never really enjoys these excursions so I usually feel guilty for dragging him somewhere and I don’t think I would have been comfortable for a nice meal out right now anyway.
I spent a lot of time laying (on my side, so sick of laying on my side… I can’t wait to lay on my stomach!) reading and watching obscure Olympic sports. Handball is weird and the modern pentathlon is such an eclectic grouping of events.
I guess this could be my last weekend to just laze around (possibly forever), but I prefer being more active than this. And considering how close this kid’s birthday is bound to be to mine, I guess the future could be about planning kid parties.
But at least we don’t share a birthday!
FYI – My hubby shares a birthday with his mom. I think he’s even more adamant that we shouldn’t share a birthday. He wants me to get my day to celebrate while the kid has their own day.