I like to exercise [my right to sit on my ass]

In case you missed it yesterday, we have officially entered Birthday Month - the month of my dreaded fun-filled 30th birthday.  My New Birthday's resolution is to do something for me every day this month, and to blog my progress. So hold on to your hats! And get ready for some really exciting blogging!

Yesterday's Birthday Month activity was - brace yourself - to order pizza.  Shut up, it was awesome.  I haven't had greasy delivery pizza since I was preggers.  Although, to be fair, I did experience a rather lengthy "order one large take-out Hawaiian pizza every week after leaving the doctor's office and eat it in the car on the way home" phase. The pizza last night wasn't quite as satisfying, but it was convenient.  

Today's activity was to be alone.  I let Hubby care for Fraggle while I went back to bed.  He then took her out grocery shopping (!) while I watched The Best Of Jimmy Fallon.  

I also shoveled the driveway, which was fucking hard given that the snow was packy enough to build a giant driveway igloo, had I had the energy to do so.  It was about time I got a bit of exercise.  I haven't exercised since, well, what year is this? Unless you count exercising my right to sit on my ass, which I totally do.  

In the end, I'm pretty happy with my Birthday Month success thus far.  I have no idea what's on deck for tomorrow but it will easily be as thrilling and exhilarating as a pizza, a shovel, and a nap.   

Birthday Month

It's going to be my birthday this month, and it's going to be what they call a big'un. 

My 30th birthday will take place on February 22nd, and if you know me at all you could expect that I'm rather un-exited about it. In fact, my profile still reads mid-twenties because, well, denial.

Why birthdays bother me is a question for my therapist (of whom I've not visited in six months since the Baby Fraggle was born - when the Crazy induced by making an appointment, arriving on time for said appointment, and trusting a babysitter during that appointment began to outweigh the overall Crazy I live with on a day-to-day basis). In the absence of my therapist, I'm going to self-diagnose my problem with birthdays as the fact that birthdays are a marker of passing time. 

While I don't love my new wrinkles and grey hairs, I suspect I'm more concerned that my life is blowing past me while I spend so much time trying to stabilize it. While I'm off growing up, and marrying, and housing, and wifing, and jobbing, and growing tiny humans, my life is, I don't know, trekking onward. Life is apparently what happens while you're trying to get your shit together.

I try to remind myself that the number doesn't matter. In fact, it doesn't - I've been in my thirties my whole life. Not to mention, I'll actually be entering my 31st year on my upcoming birthday so I oughta get the fuck over it. 

But I can't. I can't seem to let this birthday go by without it meaning something - meaning anything - bigger and better than just "oh yeah I turned 30 and I didn't like it."

So here's what I propose: Rather than sitting around dreading my upcoming passage into what is apparently Hell (?), I am totally gonna milk that shit. I'm gonna milk it for everything it's got. 

I bring you... BIRTHDAY MONTH. 

This month, until my birthday party on March 1st, I'm going to do something that is just mine every single goddam day. Starting with this blog post (and followed by what will hopefully be a daily blog post for the entire month - because who am I kidding I totally have time and I've been fucking lazy for months) and ending with a couple dozen "today I marked the occasion by..." activities. 

I know what you're thinking. "Hey that sounds light and fun and easy in a non-self-judgy kinda way Marianna! Way to go!"  But the idea isn't for this to be difficult. I simply want to celebrate rather than mope. 

So here goes. 

Welcome to Birthday Month. I'm sure it will be a joyous occasion for all. 

Ps

Fuck you, 30.