My birthday is coming up soon, and my husband keeps asking me what I want as a gift.
It shouldn’t be a difficult question, but I am completely flustered by it. In fact, the best answer I could come up with was that I kind of would like a cupcake carrier. The next sentence out of my mouth was, “A cupcake carrier? Did I just say that? When did I get so lame?”
Well, I’ll tell you when I got so lame: it was four years ago on the day my daughter was born. Yes, mark the date: that is when I became completely, utterly, irrevocably lame.
That is the day things like cupcake carriers and Dyson vacuums bumped up to the top of my birthday wish list. Four years ago I would have mocked myself for hours for even knowing what a cupcake carrier is.
The trouble is I’ve been in mommy mode for years now, which means I’ve put the wish lists of my two daughters ahead of my own. I’m not saying I’m a saint or anything because I’m far from it. I’m just saying I’m a mom, so trying to pin down any of my own interests, wants or needs separate from those of my children is difficult.
In fact, when my mother told me she was giving me a little extra birthday money this year that I had to spend on myself, she followed it up with, “And you have to actually spend it on you this time, not in a low-yield savings account for future college costs.” Apparently she got wind of how I splurged with my Christmas cash.
The other question my husband has been asking is what I want to do on my birthday. Dinner? A night out?
Again, true to form, I came up with the lamest request ever: I want to go to the gym and then read by myself. In case you didn’t know, I’m turning 80.
OK, OK, I’m actually turning 29, not that you’d know it from my devil-may-care birthday requests centered around cupcakes and a good book.
So I’ve been giving some serious thought to what I want lately — a strange concept for any young mom. And what I’ve come up with is that my desires are pretty simple. I don’t need a trip to Europe right now. I don’t need jewelry that will only be chewed on or clothes that will end up covered in pureed squash.
If I could really do whatever I want for my birthday, I’d like to:
- Read a book that is not about the sleeping patterns of toddlers or any of the Disney princesses.
- Finish something. Anything. I’d like to cross one thing off my ever-growing to-do list. It could be a scrapbook or the children’s book I’ve written in my head a million times. It also could be just a conversation with another adult — I’m not shooting for the moon here.
- Take a shower without one daughter telling me I need to scrub my belly button cleaner while the other one screams each time I close the curtain.
And the No. 1 thing I’d love to have for my birthday this year (yes, even more than a cupcake carrier, if you can imagine something so wonderful) is free time. I’m not even sure what the phrase means any more or what “free time” really feels like. Whatever it is, I want some. I’d love some good old-fashioned time with no projects or work or guilt that I’m not using my time to tackle that pile of laundry. I could do whatever I want without feeling that I have to finish in the next five minutes because the baby is going to wake up, and that puzzle is only going to distract my 4-year-old for so long.
So there it is, my mind-blowing birthday wish list, in case my husband is out there reading this. It’s not much, and it’s definitely not cool, but it beats a cupcake carrier any day.
Erin Stewart is a regular blogger for Deseret News. From stretch marks to the latest news for moms, Stewart discusses it all while her 4-year-old daughter crams Mr. Potato Head pieces in her little sister's nose.