31 Flavors of Misery
Believe it or not, there was a time in my life when I enjoyed, and even looked forward to, my birthdays. Those days ended when I turned 27 or so. Now, any time November comes around I try to run and hide. It’s difficult being reminded of one’s mortality every year. I am no longer the young nerd I once was. Now I’m an old nerd. And where does an old nerd fit in anymore? I suppose that’s why I can’t seem to stop attending school.
At least I have wonderful family and friends around who are sympathetic to my plight. I received wonderful gifts, both material and in service. Carver pulled a little less hair out of my head, Avey gave me a little paper Frankenstein she had made from scratch, Kira worked hard to give me a break from the usual stressors of life, and the rest of my family both near and far lifted my spirits with reminders of the simple pleasures of existence. As birthdays go, this one was relatively low on the trauma scale.
In other news, Carver learned to wave at us, but he doesn’t do it quite consistently. He also learned to play peek-a-boo where he will hide under something (the video shows when he was almost there). He seems stuck on what to do next toward crawling.
Avey continues to love preschool, and may be involved in a playground romance. She explicitly denies liking this boy, but she talks about him constantly. She’s made leaps and bounds in her reading and writing, and we expect a dissertation on quantum physics in the next few weeks.
And I have one year to recover from this birthday before the next one strikes.