It's My Birthday!

I'll be honest, I'm never sure what to write for birthday posts! As I've gotten older, my birthday means less and less to me. It's just another day; I still have responsibilities and I can't just stop everything to celebrate.

I also hate receiving gifts these days. I like the idea of it, sure, but I am always very aware of how much stuff I have (too much, actually) and how I should be purging what I have instead of just acquiring more. 

So on my 29th birthday, what do I have to say? 

The last year has been a big one. I've dealt with a lot of serious anxiety; instead of getting better, I've found my anxiety getting worse--but my awareness of it, and how it has changed my health, has increased. How's that for mixed blessings? I've also had a lot of fun: going to Disneyland, taking Forrest on road trips, watching him learn so much in the span of a year... it hasn't been all bad, certainly. 

I think we all tend to take birthdays very seriously and in the current social and political climate, it's hard to find joy in little things. So I've decided today (and today only, because my resolve is terrible), I'm turning off social media and spending the day doing the little things I love. Watching Sesame Street with Forrest. Making us our favorite lunch (mac and cheese with chicken & broccoli). Going to the park. The little things that I so often find myself taking advantage of. 

Here's to another year! Thanks for reading my blog, as always. 

My 28th Year

Well, it's here. My birthday. 

To be completely honest, I don't really look forward to my birthday anymore. I haven't really for a long time. 

Around two years ago, I remember telling my sister- and brother-in-law that no one really cares about your birthday once you're in the real world. Sure, your close friends and family care--but no one at work really wants to throw you a party or take you to lunch. They might, but ultimately, it's not make-or-break for them. My sister-in-law, bless her, was shocked to learn that no one I knew made a big deal about my birthday: at work, I don't like parties and even if they tried to throw me one, I would probably say no thank you. 

To some people, this is probably shocking. When I was younger, I promise, I did love my birthday. I just don't anymore. 

It's not that I'm growing older. I really don't care how old I am. But the older I've gotten, the more I've realized that the world doesn't, can't, and probably shouldn't revolve around me--no matter how small the capacity. I also, generally, hate the idea of other people spending money on me: I can think of 100 different ways for my husband, my mom, my friends to spend their money ("put it in savings," is what I always want to say). 

This feeling has gotten worse this year. In the past year, I think I have bought things for myself under 6 or 7 times. I barely go shopping anymore, and that includes online shopping. I bought a make up palette in August and felt guilty about it for weeks. Something about becoming a mom made my attitude about spending money kick into high gear: the money I spend on a new pair of shoes could go into Forrest's college fund, or towards his food, or buy him some new clothes because he's always outgrowing something. 

I would rather all money and attention go towards something else--preferable Forrest, but I'm not picky. 

However, this post isn't about my life as a spendthrift. This post is about how this--the habit I've detailed about--is a habit I'm trying to break. 

Due to a series of unfortunate events recently, I've realized that I need to start caring about myself just a teensy, weensy bit more. I don't think I'm ever going to turn into one of those people who demands attention be paid to them or gets upset when no one in the office wishes them happy birthday, but I now know that it's okay for me to demand time for myself, it's okay for me to take care of myself, and it's okay for me to accept gifts and not feel guilty. 

For my 28th year, that's my wish for myself: no more returning things I buy myself; no more talking myself out of buying something I really, truly want more than anything else; no more calculating how much money I have in my head and deciding, "no, I should buy something for Forrest instead." No more! 

It's okay to take care of myself. That's what I wish for next year: more self-care, less anxiety. 

My Pre-Baby Wishlist

Are wish list blog posts annoying? Maybe. But I've always liked them. It's kind of fun to see the other things that people search for on the Internet, or what they want for their birthday or just because. Doing them too often can be annoying because at a certain point, coveting stuff all the time is kind of concerning. But once and a while, a wish list blog post is fun. 

And this one is one really, long pointed stare at my husband. I've never been really obsessive about trying to get him to get me specific things for my birthday or our anniversary, but I've been making a really big deal about the things I want for the last months of my pregnancy. These aren't necessarily things I want for my birthday, because my birthday is October 20 and my due date is October 23. Waiting until potentially 3 days before giving birth to enjoy some new stuff seems like a recipe for disaster. 

Here are my (super duper basic) wishes for the last few months of my pregnancy. 

1. Striped Top

Guys, we need to talk about how much I want a black and white striped top. (I have an image in my head of it being majority white with thin, wide set black stripes.) Ideally, it wouldn't be maternity so that I could hopefully wash and shrink it down to post-bump status. If you're wondering why I'm jonesing for a relatively basic top so much, see my Maternity Style Pinterest board. It's the perfect Fall wardrobe addition (and it won't be too small like the striped top I own currently). 

2. Knee High Boots

For the past few years, I've operated under the assumption that I have "wide calves." But I actually, kind of don't? My calves have a circumference of 14 inches. Which, sounds huge, but is actually fairly typical. The average size 8 pair of boots has a circumference of 15-17 inches. Should work out, right? Wrong! Because I've never worn a size 8 boot in my life! I've always worn children's boots (size 4-ish and they have a calf circumference of... about 10-12 inches) or a size 6 (that typically has a calf circumference of about 12-13 inches). The size of the boot is correlated to the circumference of the calf... so if you're like me and have fairly standard size calves (or perhaps even muscular for your body type), but have always worn an itty bitty shoe size, you've never been able to find knee high boots that fit. 

With this knowledge, and puffy feet, I feel like the time has arrived: I can buy size 8 or 8.5 size boots and have them fit my calves and my feet (with thick socks). I've been scoping out boots for the last two months and I'm still undecided. I want to see them in person, I decide, and then I'll find a great pair of Mukluks on Zulily or something. 

3. A Knit Scarf

It's warm. It's cozy. It doubles as a nursing cover. It goes with every outfit. This year, I want a blanket scarf pre-Fall (so I avoid the massive sell out run on them!) and a really nice, knitted infinity scarf. 

4. Naked Smoky Palette

When I heard that Urban Decay was releasing a third (!!!) Naked palette, I had the immediate thought that they were jumping the shark. And I was wrong because the Naked Smokey palette is gorgeous. (I actually really love the Naked 3 palette as well because I loooove rose gold eye shadows, but I always look like I've got a bad case of pink eye when I pair pink-y eyeshadows with my hazel eyes.) 

5. An iMac

This is the most "dream worthy" gift I want. Someone needs to get me an iMac though. My trusty MacBook is starting to slow down and gets a little bit more laggy everyday. I've had it since my senior year of college--that's 5 years of use! I'm ready to graduate to a desktop computer and use my MacBook as a "use around the house" device. 

I Turned 26

I've somehow managed to have the same face since I was 6. 

When I was 18, someone who hadn't seen me since I was about 6 or 7 recognized me instantly. I've just one of those people whose face really didn't change as I got older. It's retained its round, babyish quality and it's not going away anytime soon. Everyone thinks it's hysterical, but I recently got asked if I was old enough to work where I work and I pretty much will be carded for the rest of my life.

My babyface has become even more clear thanks to my mom, who, for my birthday, gave me a box full of baby pictures. They are all gems. 

Getting older is fun, but it's also scary. When I was younger, I couldn't wait to be older. I always wrote stories about girls who were 22. I never imagined being 25 or 26, but I couldn't wait to be 22, to be mature, to be fulfilled and happy. Maybe I believed in magic for too long because I really believed I would magically fall into a career immediately after graduating college. I also apparently thought people dropped off the face of the planet after 25, which I hope isn't true. 

As I get older, I become more and more aware of the things I've taken for granted, of the responsibilities that I now have to take on, and of all the things I didn't think I wanted (but totally do). I also think of all the assumptions I made about people. I remember thinking about my mom losing her brother when she was 19 and thinking, "well, it was ok because she was grown up." Dear Lord, young Michelle, could you have been more clueless? 

I recently watched the movie Neighbors, which is just as silly as you imagine, but it also made me think about getting older. There is still a part of me that wants to be cool: I miss going to parties, I miss staying up all night and staying out late. I miss eating Taco Bell at 2am. I miss the dirty party houses and endless Netflix parties. I miss them, but I also find myself exhausted at the mere prospect of staying awake all night. I'm so tired; I have to work in the morning; and really, I just want to watch Key & Peele. Am I officially an old? No longer a youth? Am I over the hill? 

I'm not going to worry about it, really. While I miss all the fun of my college years, I don't miss the drama that came with them or the fluctuating persona. I don't miss having to act certain ways around certain people. At 26, I'm ready to just be myself -- and be old.