So, today is my birthday and I’m officially 35. It’s just a number and honestly, the excitement of birthdays has long past. This year my parents have flown out to spend some time with me (well, really their granddaughter) and enjoy some California countryside. I’m not going to say sunny California weather, because in a crazy twist, it’s warmer in Wisconsin than California this week.
For some reason, whenever I think of my birthday and various parties celebrating the special day, I remember crying. There was my first birthday sleepover party where someone said something which made me cry. One year, in my twenties, I had too much to drink and things turned into a screaming match, ending with crying. I think last year I cried just because I felt like it.
It’s not a bad thing, really. Crying is healthy and I think people should do it more often. I didn’t cry for years because I was worried it would make me seem “weak” or too “womanly.” Crying isn’t always a bad thing. I cry over happy things, too. I sometimes cry over commercials (yes, I admit it).
This year on my birthday as we watch my daughter run about, enjoy a tasty dinner and have a glass or two of wine, I’m not planning on crying, but if I do, it’s okay by me. It’s my birthday and I’ll cry if I want to.