Lois Lyda

 While birthdays have always been a bit of a let down, this one tops the cake in my recent memory (although due to getting “older”, this is not so good, anyway). Admittedly, it began under a false  premise that you get what you ask for. I’m 29, I should know better.

 So, about a week before my birthday, my husband asked me, “What do you want for your birthday?”
“To leave the house. . . and a clean house,” was my immediate and sincere reply. Meaning me leave the house without the kids, since I’d been housebound for a week with the car in the shop, and someone other than me cleaning. 

 My birthday came, and just before my husband left for work he handed me a card with $100. Of course I love receiving cash gifts.  However, in the not too distant past, we had decided to gift ourselves each with $100 of petty cash to budget miscellaneous needs or wants for the month.  Awkwardly, I asked if this was “over and above” my monthy allowance.  Awkwardly, Ben said “no”. 

“Thanks for the card,” I said.

Thus began my birthday.
 Ben had to work late, but he assured me there would be “something tomorrow”.

When the kids are happy, I’m happy, so I decided to take them to the lake. My son couldn’t be happier to pack up his giant dollar store shovel that was almost as tall as himself. It turned out to be a beautiful sunny April day.  The kids played non-stop with the best inter-personal skills I’ve ever seen for a three- and one- year old.  I blew up a big yellow pre-historic giraffe that Emmanuel named “Beer”, and the two of them floated around content as clams.  They really enjoyed my birthday!

We returned home for very late afternoon naps to a very messy house.  While they were sleeping, I decided to clean up, so that I could be my own fairy God-mother and grant my own birthday wish.  I was pleased with the outcome, minus the fact that it was my handiwork.  When Eden awoke from her nap, she was very sick.  Perhaps she’d swallowed some lake water. 

The next day, Emmanuel followed suit.  The two of them shivered on the couch watching movies, moaning and vomiting occasionally.  As anticipated, in the late afternoon, the doorbell rang.  Was it my mother-in-law arriving to clean my house, or look after my kids so I could go out? After all, she had told me she was really excited about her gift for me. No, just the UPS man.  I was surprised to read “PajamaGram” on the outside of the box.  Maybe some sexy lingerie?  Wrong again. Inside a hat box was a pair of sky blue pajamas speckled with white and pink feathers.  They weren’t lined or made with organic sateen,  or programed to massage me in the night.  Just plain cotton pjs . . . in size M.  I scowled.  I’m not size M.  I checked the bank account with great shock to find a $75 dollar charge.  I was convinced I could find the same pajamas at Walmart for under $5.  

Another package awaited me in the mail box.  It was from my brother - pink pajamas.  These, I liked very much, though I was starting to wonder what kind of vibe I’m giving off.

I had suggested to Ben that I’d like to have a game night on my birthday weekend. Sunday arrived, and Ben announced that his parents would be coming over for lunch.  Not exactly my ideal birthday game night, but it was a nice gesture.  Excitedly, my mother-in-law handed me her gift.  Pajamas, no less!  Oh, and some scented drawer lining paper  - the same gift I received from her last year.  I’m not sure why exactly I would need drawer lining paper on my birthday, in light of the fact that all my drawers are to my knowledge lined.  I have no burning desire to stick my head in Ben’s sock drawer and take a whiff of strawberry shortcake.  

I’ve been thinking about this pajama phenomenon a lot since then.  I realize that I have been tired; worn out from long days wrestling and wrangling two toddlers, and lethargic from lack of exercise.  No wonder I received three pairs of pj’s (the drawer liner is still a mystery)! 

My sister-in-law emailed, “I hope your day is full of birthday surprises”.  Well, it definately was filled with the surprise of not getting what I wanted.  And this is a good lesson for any person, no matter how old.   Sadly, or maybe just naturally, I don’t view birthdays magically anymore.  I don’t wait up all night before, or anticipate my wildest dreams coming true because I’m one year older.  I consider myself to be a woman of simple needs. For me, a “birthday surprise”  would have been something out of the ordinary like a few hours by myself at a coffee shop.  Because a few hours at a coffee shop would be just enough to rejuvinate me, to magically transport me to another “world” for just a moment. Compared to this, pajamas are surprisingly ordinary.