I have always loved my birthday, despite the fact that it almost always rains on that day. I love the rain, I love the cake, and I love the attention, so I love my birthday.
In fact, I love my birthday so much, that my husband has not-so-jokingly dubbed the entire month of May as “The Month of Kathy.”
There’s something about the month of May that makes me happy—and would even if my birthday weren’t in it. There’s sunshine and flowers and greening of the trees. It’s happy and vibrant and hopeful. School is almost out and summer is coming.
It’s time to choose a new summer wardrobe, paint my toenails, and turn my face toward the sun.
I don’t care about my age—44. Not really. I mean, it sounds old; and sometimes I feel old. Especially when I’ve fallen asleep in my toddler’s bed and there’s a catch in my hip and a kink in my neck and I limp to the bathroom because my ankle won’t bend.
And then I look in the mirror and the worry crease between my eyes is becoming a giant Grand Canyon- sized chasm and the hair around my temples is graying faster than I can keep it colored and I seem to be getting a huge middle-aged zit in the center of my huge middle-aged wrinkle.
Honestly? I hate getting older, but I still love my birthday. I still love the month of May.
Mother’s Day is the week before my birthday, and I think about how having children is one of the greatest things I have ever done. I have brought five beautiful, unique people into this world, and I want to make sure they leave an impact.
This month reminds me what a wonderful spouse I have chosen. He’s a man who works hard for his family, both to show them the value of hard work and to give them experiences and memories that will last a lifetime. He is a man who appears not to be listening sometimes, but hears everything and always gives me the perfect gift.
Some people say that a birthday is just another day, but I disagree. The year is filled with ordinary days. Even though a birthday means you’re one year older, a little more wrinkly, and perhaps a bit stiffer, it’s still a cause for celebration.
Especially when it falls during a month when spring is in full bloom and mothers are celebrated. It’s the month for me, and I’m going to claim it as mine.
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