My birthday recently happened, and approximately 9,488,725 people asked me what I was going to do to celebrate. When you’re in your 30s and your birthday falls during the week, what, pray tell, are you supposed to do? Should I do something I have never done, like go skydiving? Should I do something I always do, like eat dinner on the couch? Neither answer sounds quite right.
I ended up saying, “I’m keeping it lowkey,” like a star trying to recover from a public relations disaster. Show me on a scale how intense I should be about my birthday, with Stassi from Vanderpump Rules on one end and Ron Swanson on the other. I cannot figure out whether I should ruin everyone’s night with a diva-level tantrum (It’s my birthday!!) or if I should try to redact the information from all government documents.
The closest I came to actually planning something was scheduling my dental exam the day before rather than on my birthday. At least that way I didn’t have to answer “getting my teeth cleaned” when someone asked the question.
I have noticed that you’re supposed to buy other people things when you have birthdays in your 30s. “Donuts in the breakroom for my 29th (wink) birthday,” is a frequent email that goes out at work. Listen, I don’t expect to get money in a card from all my aunts and uncles at this point, but I never thought I’d come out behind in the whole deal. I did bring them in, though (and ate two).
It was nice that on the day of, my spouse cooked me dinner (salmon and french fries, per my request), which we ate in bed. When he’d asked what I wanted him to make – anything in the world – I half considered using the opportunity to ask him to whip up “the sauce,” which is an unregulated condiment I invented that doesn’t meet his approval. He does not recognize its sovereignty as a sauce, period. (Recipe below. It goes with everything!)
But again, without knowing the correct answer to what you should do for your birthday, I’m all over the map. “Troll your spouse” probably isn’t quite right. “Eat an extra donut” might be closer. “Feel a dash of excitement mixed with a little despair about getting older” is probably exactly right.
Above is a photo of me as a 13-year-old holding a bunny-shaped cake in front of my face to try to avoid participating in the picture. The photo was taken on/for my birthday during a year when it fell very close to Easter. I literally tried to hide behind a national holiday so I wouldn’t have to figure out what I should do/feel about my birthday. Actually, I’m a little jealous of people who have birthdays on holidays.
Question: What did you do to celebrate your birthday?
Answer: Christmas.
I think the problem as an adult is feeling like you’re supposed to be doing something objectively cool, like closing down a bar. I don’t drink much – ever – so heavy drinking on one day of the year would probably be a deranged decision for me. I have an inkling that if I didn’t calculate the drinks exactly right, a little less excitement and a little more despair might come out. Truthfully, I’m a lot happier when I’m doing something deeply uncool, like eating dinner in bed with my little fam.
“I didn’t want to call because I figured you’d be out doing something,” my 94-year-old grandma said when she called the day after the big (not big) day. And you know what? I didn’t correct her. I let her imagine that I was dancing on a bar, happy at first and then inevitably throwing a fit later. I could get away with it – it’s my birthday.
The Sauce (there are no recorded measurements)
Mayo
Mustard
Olive Oil
Lemon or lime juice
Garlic powder
Paprika
Pepper
In the comments, tell me what you did for your most recent birthday.