Today I am 32. This is the last birthday I will spend as a childless weirdo, and I’m enjoying it to the max. I purchased some things that are sort of for the baby and sort of for me, for a great price, from a lady on craigslist. I plan to make something awesome out of it for the baby, that will later be disassembled and then be for me. Cryptic enough? I’ll write a post with pictures when I get around to creating the masterpiece.
I’m doing a load of laundry, even though I typically resolve to do not a stitch of housework on my birthday. It’s okay, though, because I’m only doing it so I can wear a specific article of clothing this evening for dinner.
I’ll be making a fantastically huge and awesome lasagna for said dinner, and I plan on posting the recipe soon. I’ve gotten past the nausea, and have been happily back in the kitchen. This lasagna has been a crowd pleaser for as long as I’ve been making it. It’s actually the first successful recipe I created, and I did it back when I was 19 and had no idea how to cook. It needed no evolving, no tweaking; it was perfect from the start.
My mother-in-law will be joining us for dinner, and offered to bring a fancy cake. I’m not a big cake fan, so I spoke up. I said, “I’d actually rather have a birthday pie, as nontraditional as that may be,” and she agreed that pie is superior to cake. Pumpkin pie is one of my favorite foods ever, and I have never actually had one on my birthday, despite it being so seasonal. She’s making it from scratch, and I simply can’t wait. Plus, her husband is one of my favorite people in the world. He’s going to teach my baby how to play rugby, probably the day it comes out of my womb.
My sister will be at my dinner as well. She hasn’t been around much in the past few years, and I think it’s been 10 years since I’ve seen her on my actual birthday. Maybe even longer. Regardless, it’s going to be really nice to have all of my family with me on my birthday. The last birthday that will really be mine, or will be important at all. After this, it’s all baby baby baby.
My baby book suggests planning a “babymoon” with my husband, which is a weekend away together, just the two of us. A last hurrah before the baby comes. A trip alone, without child, without having to leave our child with someone else and worry the whole time. I’m thinking about this birthday the same way. It’s all me. I’m going to eat pie and lasagna to my heart’s and womb’s content, and enjoy the peaceful and me-centric day.