In case you’re wondering - the beginning of April is a very fertile time for me.  TMI? (too much information?)  I know this because both my boys were born in January.  The 16th and 18th to be exact….and these dates were no accident.  I was induced with both my pregnancies, so these were dates of my choosing.  People always comment on how close their birthdays are.  It was a much more calculated decision than they know.  Here was my thought process:  My oldest son could not possibly be born on the 17th…that was the one-year anniversary of the big Northridge earthquake which sent my home to the ground in pieces.  It couldn’t be on an odd-numbered day for no reason at all other than I like the way the even numbers sounded.  I don’t have an aversion to odd-numbered days.  Both my husband and I were born on odd-numbered days, but if they were giving me a choice, I thought 18 was a good number.  I loved being 18…so 18 it is.  Also, the day needed to be closer to the weekend so my husband could take an extended amount of time off (who knew at the time that I really didn’t need my husband at all during the days following child birth).  Therefore, the 18th it was.  My thought process was pretty much the same for my second child. 

But having two January birthdays created a Martha Stewart neurosis in me.  The drive to make their day special to each of them, despite the fact that Christmas was less than a month ago and their birthdays are basically on top of each other.  This is when the very identifiable neurotic birthday curse happened.  It happens every year and fills me with anxiety.  My husband has learned to stand back and watch it unfold.  He says only positive things because I will have none of his peanut gallery suggestions or comments.  I know it’s controlling.  What can I say?  He puts his trust in me and morphs into my assistant (probably because he has learned to never go against a mom and her passion for her children’s happiness.  I see husband assistants at most children’s parties.  It’s an unwritten rule in my suburb.)  The neurosis goes something like this:

Neurotic habit #1 - take down all Christmas “stuff” by January 1 and create a birthday house.

Neurotic habit #2 - create a unique birthday invitation as special as each child.  It must be hand-made and 3-dimensional.

Neurotic habit #3 - coordinate a new and exciting birthday theme that identifies each child’s current love.  This theme has to be something that hasn’t been done in the past.  I don’t want to replicate someone else’s Pirate Party or Indiana Jones Party.

Neurotic habit #4 - calendar several other birthday events to include extended family and family friends who aren’t invited to the over-the-top kid party.

Neurotic habit #5 - find the perfect gift.  Extremely challenging as Christmas was three weeks earlier.

Neurotic habit #6 - lose Christmas pounds and get back to the gym.  OK, this has nothing to do with their birthdays and everything to do with me…but it’s still always on the list in January.

Neurotic habit #7 - appear as if I whipped all this together with little effort and look as happy and well-rested as can be.  Why is this even on the list?  I’m not sure why I do this.

Neurotic habit #8 - think, think, think of every way to ensure they feel special.  Mustn’t leave out even one detail or I will be beating myself up for the balance of the year.

So, why do I attend my very own party of one on January 19th?  Because it’s over!  The planning is over and their actual birthdays are over.  It’s the day I reflect on my efforts and always pat myself on the back for a job well done.  The first question that I ask myself is if I think they put their head on their pillow and felt special and celebrated.  My answer is always YES!  I wish I could stop with just that question and be done with it…but I can’t.  My next questions are always - what will I change for next year and how could I do it better.  UGH!  Sometimes a party at Chuckie Cheese doesn’t sound so bad!  As for me - today is going to be all about me!  I’m going to Pilates and the gym with NO guilt.  I LOVE January 19th!!!

I saw this post on a blog that I follow and it really struck a chord with me.  As my oldest son turns 15 tomorrow and I think back at how my answer to this question would have changed over the years.

On January 18, 1995, I met one of the loves of my life.  This was a love like no other I had known.  There should be mommy vows taken at birth.  It should be ceremonious.  After-all, it’s easier and much more likely that women will divorce their husbands then divorce their children.  The vows should be something like I will love you unconditionally, support you, allow you to vomit on me, teach you to walk, teach you to talk (which I truly did regret at certain ages), let you keep me up nights, kick me in the stomach while co-sleeping (co-sleeping wasn’t ever my plan, it just seemed to work out that way for a couple of years), give you all my money, cater to your every need, wipe away your every tear, feel your pain, feel your joy….and all you have to do is live here.

As for the backseat question - my answer has evolved.  15 years ago I would’ve answered a quick, vehement YES!  Now, I’m not so sure.  15 years ago for some reason I bought into the 1-dimensional life of Super Mommy Wannabe.  Don’t get me wrong, at the time I found this life to be so overwhelmingly fulfilling.  I built my Stay-At-Home mom soap box and I proudly stood on it.  I willingly chose to give up so much of myself because I thought it was hands down the right thing to do.  Personally, I felt anything less than this would be selfish seeing that my husband had a great job and we could afford to make this choice.  I gave my life to my children.  I really didn’t have anything else.  Sure, I had other moms from the play groups, scrapbooking friends, gym friends…but all this was in the name of being Super Mom.  Losing my independence happened slowly.  It was a very gradual death until one day I realized how shallow I had become.  I felt like I had nothing to add to the conversation between adults.  I lost my passion, my zest.  One day I woke up to understand that my anxiety was truly a scream for more from me.  Not a scream to be a better mom, but a scream to be a better me.  I always knew there was more for me.  That’s when I started plotting and planning my more balanced life.  Hmmmm, how was I going to have a life that was fulfilling for my children, yet still fulfilling for me?  I was entering an unchartered course.  It took me awhile to let go of the guilt of dividing my time.  There were going to be less home-made cookies, less volunteer hours at school, more piles of laundry and I was going to have to learn to say no without guilt.  Eventually, I found a happy balance. 

My children continue to be #1 on my priority list.  There’s nothing like the joy of knowing that they lay there heads on their pillows each night with thoughts of the beautiful day they had and that I was a part of it…it’s just now I do the same thing.  Yes, I did take a backseat to my children, and I still do - but now I do it with a joyful heart because I have more balance for me.  And guess what…sometimes they take a backseat to me!