yes I admit I have failed horribly. I had an attack of neat the other day and I ended up filing all the cards. hell I have mailed a couple out already. I hang my head in shame.
Warning: Pity Party Ahead
So, my birthday is Friday. I will be..over 40. I have had many Birthdays from hell, starting in 1986 on my 18th. for those of you not old enough to remember, that was the day the Challenger exploded, pretty much ending the United State's dominance in the Space Race. other equally 'fond' memories include being stuck in a small apartment with the boy friend, his estranged wife their young son and not a working car between any of us. Then there was the day I had to pack out all our worldly belongings alone.. not knowing for certain whether or not John would actually get back from the so last minute it isn't funny underway( don't ask, long story) in time to actually detach from the command in Japan so that he didn't lose his San Diego Orders. (side note. this was ALSO the time Sachiko ended up boxed and crated and halfway to Yokohama before rescue). Birthdays tend to suck past 12 anyway. I just prove the point pretty much on a yearly basis.
to be fair there have been NICE ones. dinner at Melting Pot is a highlight I look forward to as often as feasible. yeah not this year..or next for that matter. Many years ago I pretty much told John to quit spending $100 a pop on flowers so I no longer get even that when he isn't home. Oh I expect I'll get a mushy card or three and a cute one or two but we've pretty much given up on the whole present thing. if we like something, we buy it. Like my Kindle. we tell each other that the large expensive things.. like plane tickets from Okinawa are present enough .
We lie. We pretend that it's practical and presents on the actual date don't matter.. whether it's Christmas, or a birthday or an anniversary. We tell tall tales about how we are fine with waiting until April to take a cruise and that 'counts' for Valentine's day and my Birthday and gives partial credit for (step)Mother's day.
We lie because we don't want to appear selfish, or vain, or petty. We lie because it isn't seemly to want material goods. But in our deepest heart, we feel sorry for ourselves. We want our husband HOME dammit so that he CAN take us out to dinner. We want to be able to open a gift wrapped package that he gave us with his own two hands, not ordered from 7000 miles away. Or said we could buy ourselves.
So yeah, we crawl into a little ball and ignore the world for a few weeks and only come up for air if we are forced into it(or run out of eggs). We put on a brave face to our friends and relations so they don't see how much it hurts. We don't want to appear weak.
We lie. a LOT.