Some would say turning 50 is a milestone, but to me, it’s just another year.
Months before my big five-o, my teenage daughter continuously nagged me by questioning what I wanted for my birthday. She told me I was not to ask for a pair of slippers or pajamas, which are typical requests of mine.
“You should do something big! Is there something you want to do? Is there anything you’ve always wanted to try?” She would often ask.
The questions became so bothersome that I started making outrageous requests: “Yeah, I want to spend a weekend alone in Sedona, Arizona,” or “I’ve always wanted to go on a silent retreat.”
She didn’t take my sense of humor lightly. The youngest child of seven has been our one and only at home for the past nine and a half years. None of her older siblings were around to teach her how to tell when I was joking or serious. Her dad tries to help her read my facial expressions, but she still doesn’t always understand my sarcasm or know when my silence shields hurt, upset, or anger.
For the past five years, I’ve been homeschooling her. We have grown extremely close, and our bond is one I truly cherish. Most mornings, we share our feelings with one another. She can’t always differentiate my emotions if they are not verbally expressed. Perhaps it’s because she’s a teenager. She has her own emotions and doesn’t have much time between her studies and social life to decipher mine.
But let’s be honest: having a birthday at the end of winter while living in Westchester County is unpredictable. There were more times than one that a snowstorm interrupted or postponed festivities. Since childhood, I had to plan for the worst while hoping for the best.
Honoring one’s fiftieth year circulating the sun differs from person to person. I have no regrets about how I have or have not celebrated the day of my birth in years past.
This time of year is a recovery period from overspending during the holidays. It just seemed for a long time that there was nonstop spending from August through January—from the start of school in September, Halloween, Thanksgiving Day, the entire month of December, right through the Epiphany.
Westchester County has held Restaurant Week in March, allowing me to celebrate with fine dining while saving money. One year, I treated myself to a four-hour private spa service for women in NYC. Another year, I took the day off from work. I sat and ate breakfast alone while reading the newspaper at a local diner, rented a public bicycle, rode it along the South County Trail, and then hiked a portion of the Old Croton Aqueduct. Being alone by myself was therapeutic. I’m sure most mothers would agree. Whether your child is young or old but living at home, time alone is scarce.
As I reflect on the past decades of my life, I am grateful to have made wonderful memories with friends and family. Most of all, I am thankful to have spent time alone. There are many more places I want to visit, and I hope to make new memories.
Being a mom to my teenage daughter means everything to me. So, whatever we do to celebrate my birthday this year, I want it to be spent with the three of us, enjoying a Tomahawk Steak and eating a delicious Cannoli Cake, too.
