Today is my husband’s birthday. He treats birthdays the exact opposite of me. He’ll tell you he doesn’t like his birthday, he doesn’t want cake, presents or even a card. There was one year he actually uninvited his family to his birthday party — we’d decided to have his mom, sister, his nephews and brother-in-law over for a BBQ. He decided that he just didn’t want to celebrate that year (I think it was his 39th birthday, he might have struggled with the approaching 40 milestone), so he told them not to come. They respected his wishes and I think he was secretly upset that they just didn’t show up anyways. But they’re not mind readers, buddy!!
Now me — I love a birthday party, it doesn’t even have to be mine. I love cake, presents, and if there are some balloons I’m super excited. I love having a huge group of folks over at our house, especially folks who don’t all know each other — it’s such a good time for everyone in my life to meet! I love the loudness, the chaos, all the dirty dishes — it’s evidence that we are loved, happy and well fed. I love when folks spend the night.
Basically I love all these things that my husband does not want for his own birthday. His family teased him tonight about his routine — how we grill pizza on Sunday’s, order pizza on Thursday, go out to eat on Friday’s, but I have already written about that. My husband does like his routine, so right now he is grilling us a pepperoni, sausage, bacon and multi-colored bell peppers pizza because it is Sunday evening and that’s what we do, even if it’s his birthday.
I hope that he had a nice day — sometimes you just can’t tell with him, he’s not an overly enthusiastic emotion shower. That’s why he has me.
Notes from a Self Quarantine 