What birthday? Do mums ever really get birthdays anymore?

Posted in Family.
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Now now, I realise I have just turned 38, not three. My birthday is not the most important thing to me since discovering that some dinosaurs can fly. I honestly even forgot it was coming until the other day when my panicked husband asked me what I’d like as a present.

But it turns out today is my birthday and so far it’s been very, very mummed. And by that I mean my little loves and I have both sabotaged it.

Here’s what’s gone down and why I kinda think, when you become a mum you don’t really ever get a proper birthday again. 

What a way to wake up!

Most mornings I am awakened by a little body snuggling into mine for morning cuddles. It’s a blissful way to wake up.

But this morning, I woke up to a tantrumming three-year-old and both of my boys sitting on top of me as they took it turns to slap and hit me to “wake mummy up”. 

I growled. I was pissed and when I came too, I was ropeable over why they had decided to jolt me awake in this manner.

My three-year-old wanted to stream dinosaurs on YouTube, and I was asleep, so he wanted to wake me up NOW, of course. My five-year-old thought this was funny, and so although he knows better, decided to copy him.

So naturally, I said no to my little guy’s ‘request’ – and had a massive fight with my kids. On my birthday.

I told them, “Do you know what today is? It’s my birthday. What horrible boys to wake me up like that. You have RUINED mummy’s birthday. 

Stressed and tired mum with her head in her hands

Mum life

After apologising to me and trying to make it up to me with cuddles and promises of, “we won’t ruin your birthday anymore,” I was in a rush, rush, quick get out the door mode. 

Today is a preschool/work day for me, so I had my militant mum hat on, jumping from feeding them breakfast, to finding clothes, packing kindy bags, brushing teeth and strapping them into their car seats on the way to preschool.

It was a regular mum morning for me. Nothing special, not say, like my birthday. 


More on birthdays:


But I also sabotaged it

The other thing I accidentally did, which I never usually do, because I am more of “don’t worry about buying me a present, just write me a nice card”, kind of wife, is that I offered to buy myself a birthday gift on my hubby’s behalf.

He’s been working a lot lately, was stressed about it and even though he knows I don’t care about that stuff he wanted to get me something. He was pretty chuffed then when I said I knew what I wanted and I’ll just pick it up for him.

So there I was at the shops yesterday buying the jute daisy rug that I had been dreaming about, while stopping my boys from pulling things off hooks and making a mess in the homewares shop. Oh, gawd. Get. Us. Outa. Here. 

I have micromanaged my own birthday

In addition to the birthday gift, I have also decided we are having tacos for dinner, because it’s my son’s favourite and he thinks we are having a party. Plus, I don’t want to have the dinner battles with them, on my birthday. Oh and I’ve asked my mum, who will be joining us for the taco party, to buy a rainbow ice-cream cake for dessert because that’s my other boy’s request.

I realise now though that I have sort of micromanaged my own birthday. I have mummed it by thinking about everyone else, putting their wants before my own and also even thinking FOR them. 

BUT everything JUST turned around!

As I type, a delivery of gorgeous pink peonies and cream hibiscus flowers just arrived on my desk. A total surprise!

“Happy birthday Lana! Love you soooo much! Love Bec” reads the card – from a fellow mum friend who knows how special it is to be made to feel special.

So maybe mums do still get to have birthdays after all? We just have to wary of the sabotages, yes, even the self ones.

Now I am looking forward to the celebrations tonight, even if I have half constructed them myself.

Plus, I do really love that daisy rug.

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