Happy Birthday to Me...

Forty-three years ago I came into the world kicking and screaming... the first child of an 18 year old mother and a 23 year old father.

I was born at home, as was the custom back then in Holland, with only a mid wife in attendance. Dad was at sea as part of the merchant marines.

From my mother I inherited my resilience, my stubbornness and my empathy. From my father I inherited my height, my brains and my glass is half full approach to life. From both I inherited a desire to do well. That comes of being an immigrant child of working class parents.

I have a lot to be grateful for. My parents set the stage for the person I am today.

So... having said all that, please forgive the whine that is about to follow. It is a full on one. I need to get it out of my system.

My birthday has sucked. Second year in a row that it's been a complete waste of time. Last year on the 5th I fell and hurt my arm. I was in a sling for my birthday. As a result of being at the hospital noone had time to go shopping for me.

This year no falls but last night Mr 14 was the ass from hell. He completely ruined the night for us all. This morning no "happy birthday" from the boys. No gift.

Hubby feels horrible. Part of the challenge for him is that he simply does not know what to get me. He said tonight at dinner that he has lost touch with who I am. I can't blame him because so have I. My life currently consists of work, home, children and Starbucks. That's it. There is no time for me. I wouldn't know what to do with it if I had it. But that's not an issue because there simply is no time.

How freakin' sad is that? How can you make a life with a spouse who has no life. How can you share interests when they have no interests to share? This has upset us both. Not fighting upset, just sad upset.

Happy birthday to me... who ever me is...