Felicitations

Last weekend I had the best birthday I've had since - well, probably since I lived at home with my parents. My mom has always been great at birthdays.

I was sitting with the other moms and nannies at the side of the pool during Ellie's swimming lesson one morning this summer when the talk turned, as it inevitably does, toward husbands.

"Your birthday was Saturday, wasn't it? Did you have a good weekend?" I asked the mom next to me.

"It was very nice," she replied. "I've just about gotten used to not getting a present from my husband. But this year, he took me to the nursery so I could buy some plants for the garden and did his annual one day of helping me outside, which I really appreciate."

A couple of weeks ago, I was in the middle of another group of women sharing funny stories about their silly silly husbands, and I tossed something into the ring, I don't remember what, Paul dyeing all the laundry pink or overfilling the dishwasher or something that had a funny-in-hindsight result. I got the response I respected: Hah! You're so lucky that your husband knows where the washing machine is!

Our therapist looks down upon the common practice of spouse-bashing. She likes the idea of a united front, speaking about each other with respect. She's got a really good point. Which seems better: passive-aggressive comments to friends, or straight-forward discussions with your partner?

Sure, on one hand you get that moment of we're-all-in-this-same-crazy-boat-together. But on the other hand, you have the chance of actually improving things.

Last year, after another hey-that-was-my-birthday, I had a very specific talk with Paul about what my mom did for our birthdays growing up, why it means a lot to me, and, some "I feel loved when" language.

Guess what. It worked! See, birthdays were different in my husband's house than in mine, growing up. We have different ideas of normal, of special-day. And my little stories of what my mom did, which seemed like broad hints to me, were just stories to Paul, not how-to lessons. But when I told him what I really wanted, he listened, took notes, and made it happen.

My birthday started out fabulously when Paul woke up early with the girls and took them out to get doughnuts and Starbucks to bring home. Later that morning, we all went to the 48th annual Kirkwood Greentree Parade, then Paul took Ellie to gymnastics and Ada and I came home. I wrote an op-ed piece and sent it off to an editor, then Paul made me a delicious sandwich for lunch. Since the girls had early naps, when they woke up we all headed down to the arch. Ada's long been fascinated by the arch and both girls were really really excited by the experience. Ada's still talking about it. "Mommy! Mommy! Arch! Climb up! Tall!" She makes big stomping motions with her feet, emphasizing the journey up as though she climbed the stairs herself (in reality, there's a tiny, egg-shaped elevator crammed with 5 Mork-style chairs). Too, too cute. "Daddy hold me! Look out da window!" Ellie says.




The next day, we'd intended to have a few friends over for dinner, but as we had no power, Paul arranged a dinner out. He also contracted with the bakery who made our wedding cakes to make a delicious carrot cake for my birthday. Perfect! I could have done without the sombrero serenade at dinner, but other than that, the whole weekend was great.




Many thanks to my thoughtful husband! In return, I promise: never another clown for your birthday.