January 17th, 2010
It’s shaping up as something of a tradition in its own right. My birthday has an overt tendency to suck. A quick recap may be in order.
- 42: “Guess who forgot? That’s right. Xy.”
- 41: “I’ve got no festivity in my life whatsoever. Xy didn’t even say ‘Happy Birthday’ this morning, and she has report card conferences this evening! No one at the office knows it’s my birthday, because I’ve kept it under wraps.”
- 40: “Please be gentle with me. I’m making 40 today. I’d rather be thinking about other things, but life doesn’t seem to be working out that way, and this is what I’m stuck with. Like it or not.”
That 40th birthday was really the worst. Not only was I reeling from the brutal murder of a friend, I was also feeling a pressure to be some sort of spokesman on the subject of violent crime, a role for which I found myself remarkably unsuited. Still I recall Xy managed to spend an evening sucking down oysters and booze in the Quarter. There was still a flicker of festive spirit there, however dark the backdrop. In terms of actual celebration it’s been strictly downhill since.
Prior to that I’m not sure, but I’d pretty much lost interest in my birthday after making 30.
Come to think of it, my 30th birthday pretty much sucked ass too, though I tried to put a good face on it: “Everyone was laughing and smoking and drinking and having a good time. Except for me. Well, I laughed and had a good time, but I didn’t drink or smoke. I never thought I’d be stone cold sober on my 30th birthday! Life is strange.”
Now back to the present. Our girl woke up around 4:00 AM and landed in our bed for a little nursing session, after which Xy fled to the couch downstairs. P let me sleep in until 9:00 AM. She woke up happy, I asked her who’s birthday it was, and she said “Dada!” The day seemed to be getting off to an auspicious start.
Then Xy came up and informed me that she’d been barfing since 5:00 AM. And that pretty much set the tone for the rest of the day. It was very much a repeat of yesterday. Xy was sick yesterday with a migraine. This morning’s sickness may have been food poisoning. So I played “single dad” while Xy rested (when not puking) and tried to feel better.
Oh, yes, there are worse things — I know. I had fun taking the girl to the park in the morning. She was beside herself with joy at the prospect of sliding down the slide.
For lunch we went to Huevos, which is spitting distance from our new house. I got to meet the chef who has the same first name as me. I presume we don’t share the same birthday. But I didn’t check.
Xy’s feeling better now. We’re chugging on with our lives. Her birthday sucked too, for what it’s worth.
A number of people have suggested that Xy’s sicknesses, coming in the morning as they have, could be an indication of pregnancy. I have to respond: Not unless you know something I don’t. I know how babies get made and I can assure you I haven’t impregnated anyone lately.
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