The 5 Year Rule

So my birthday is tomorrow. You don't need to wish me well (though if you are really inclined, truffles and wine are always welcome.) I've managed to make it to the next decade with a minimum of fear and apprehension, and gracefully accept the transition into ma'am territory- although when the cutie patootie 18 year old at Trader Joe's carded me for my $5 Chard I think I scared him with my squeal of joy. I don't want piles of presents, most of which are useless if the gifts my aunt insists on sending every year are any indication. All I want, and it's a simple request, really, is for my husband to do something for me. Anything.

Growing up, birthdays were always a big deal. My mother never pulled a Sixteen Candles on me and f'n forgot my birthday, never. We had presents (impractical stuff- toys and jewels!) and cake and our favorite dinner, and it had to be on the actual day, not whatever weekend day was close and convenient. No opening presents early, either- you had to wait until the Big Day. Actually, birthdays still ARE a big deal in my family, and all these rules still apply. We've only been through one birthday with my parents as grandparents, but its already shaping up to be more of the same, to the nth degree.

My in-laws on the other hand, don't think much of birthdays. They'll have dinner together, get a token present- always something practical, like a Dyson or some plates or a Home Depot gift certificate. If the day was a Wednesday, they'd celebrate the following Sunday or whenever football wasn't on. Cake? B's mom would make him his favorite carrot cake with chocolate frosting and raisins, disgusting enough to guarantee the rest of us would sit around and watch B eat it, wishing he would ask for a chocolate cake instead.

B and I dated for 4 years before getting married, so I guess I should be happy I made it this long. He had been doing a good job of going along with my family's tradition of exuberant celebration, smiling through the piles of impractical gifts showered upon him, and putting in some effort for my birthday. But as we passed the 5 year anniversary mark, he just ran out of steam. I asked him about a month ago to procure concert tickets for tomorrow, and it was never spoken of again. I asked him about it yesterday, and he said, "Oh yeah, couldn't get them. Why don't you make a dinner reservation somewhere, and pick out a movie or something?"

BLECH! I don't want to see a movie! And I resent having to make my own dinner reservation! And he didn't ask me about PRESENTS, which can only mean he is assuming the new WASHING MACHINE we had to buy is my present! That can be HIS present for next year, I bet he'd like that.

My mother nodded sympathetically. "I've been buying my own presents for years," she said. "I just get what I want and tell your dad that's my present. He likes it." I guess it's that time in our marriage. B is perfectly happy to do this- in fact he's been doing it to me for years. He won't allow me the pleasure of getting him what he wants because I might screw it up, so he goes and buys whatever digital piece of stuff he wants, doesn't wait until his birthday, and doesn't let me wrap it.

So I will make a dinner reservation, somewhere fun. Maybe catch a comedy show after. And then I'm going to find a Pilates studio and give myself a big old gift wrapped private session! (And my mom is driving down with the ice cream cake.)