I turned 44. My 4-year-old is uber-excited. Something about having the same age numbers, so now I'm just like her... which could be a lot of fun, if you think about it. Maybe I'll try acting like a four year old for awhile. Everyone will have to wait on me, I get to be carried when I'm tired and if I don't get my way, I can cry. That sounds like a perfect way to handle a mid-life crisis.
(Edit: So, I wrote this the night before my actual birthday, while my 4-year-old was still excited. When Pickle-Mickle got up this morning, she burst into tears when she realized it was my birthday. Why? Because she no longer wants me to be 44. She wants me to stay 43. My four-year-old is having a mid-life crisis for me. Who knew?)
Anyway, my Hubster asked me what I wanted for my birthday (We are way past trying to guess. It isn't conducive to a happy marriage. "No honey, I really don't want a hydraulic drill for my birthday...No, I don't want that pink-frilly-dress-that's-two-sizes-too-small, either. But thanks for trying..." We just tell each other. So.much.easier.)
So when my Hubster asked me what I wanted, I was pretty quick with my answer. I wanted a day off. I wanted a day to do whatever I wanted without having to take care of anybody's anything. I wanted a day in which I didn't have to rush -- a day that I could slow down and savor. Over the last nearly 19 years, I have only had a handful of those kind of days. They are special.
I won't tell you every detail of my special day, but my husband took the kids on a field trip, handed me some spending money and left me to my own devices.
I sipped tea, read old books, browsed antique shops and thrift stores, ate good food, and drank more tea. I refused the urge to rush. Not today, Hurry-itis. Today is my day. I moved slow. I looked. I tasted. I savored the day.