Ok. My husband didn’t exactly forget my birthday. I am stretching the truth because I want your attention. I enjoy attention. I like to feel important. Especially on my birthday. I also like to get gifts. In fact, I love gifts! It doesn’t have to be a fancy present. It could be anything to show me you care about me. Something that satisfies my love language.

I enjoy when my husband holds my hand or puts his arm around me. I love when he buys me a gift. It feels good when he goes out of his way to make me feel special. This doesn’t make me materialistic. This is what makes me feel significant. It’s the language that speaks to my heart. I appreciate a compliment and words of encouragement. However, I actually prefer if you do something for me.

As a child, my day of birth was never acknowledged. I grew up as a Jehovah’s Witness. I never got a card or a present from Toys-R-Us. No one in my family uttered those wonderful words, “Happy Birthday!” I was not celebrated. It was awful.

Over the years, with lots of therapy, I’ve given myself permission to celebrate myself. My birthday is important to me. I’d been single for a some of my milestone birthdays. For my Twenty-First birthday, I invited 6 college friends for Karaoke. They bought me lots of drinks and I got pretty wasted. That seemed like the usual scenario for turning Twenty-One. I was legal. I got drunk. I also sang “Like a Virgin” on stage. With a microphone. Not one of my proudest moments but it was fun. I spent the next morning hugging the toilet bowl. I was completely hungover and I had a blast reliving the shenanigans with my friends. I made a happy memory for myself.

When I turned thirty, I produced a big soiree. A couple of girlfriends helped me find a sexy lounge in the East Village. A friend of mine was a liquor representative so he gifted me all the alcohol. Another friend designed a fancy invitation for me. Snail Mail was still a thing then. When the invite was opened glitter flew everywhere. Not sure invitees would enjoy glitter all over their floor but it was a playful detail. The party was a blast. Thirty showed. Midgets served cocktails and hors d’oeuvre. A magician moved from clique to clique. Wowing his audience. A belly dancer performed after I blew out the candles on my cake. I had a small circus of a party. I gifted myself a fabulous affair.

Forty called for a little more sophistication. A friend worked at a fabulous hotel in West Hollywood. I invited 12 of my closest friends to share a delicious five course meal that I paid for. We then headed to the bungalow I rented for the night. We had some drinks and lots of laughs. Two of my girlfriends spent the night with me and we had a lovely breakfast the next day. Another fond memory to put in the “good life” compartment of my mind.

The next milestone is coming up but for right now, I’m turning 49.

My husband and I met when I was 41. We had a baby when I was 45. Yes, I know what you are thinking single ladies; there is hope. It’s never too late and you too can find an incredible supportive man.

I’m laying out some dates because I’d agree that my birthday will always fall on the same date. Am I right? My husband seems to know when my birthday is. Every Christmas he jokes, “Your birthday is coming up. Then Valentine’s day is coming, and then it is our anniversary.” He always sounds a bit overwhelmed by this thought as he recites the same monologue every year. Yet, every year I am the one who makes the reservation for dinner. Now that we have a son for the last 3 of my birthdays, I also book the babysitter. That way all my husband has to do is show up. Show up with the flowers, maybe a gift, and take me out to a very simple dinner. This isn’t exactly his idea. It’s mine. I can be very controlling.

My language of love happens to be receiving gifts and acts of service. I’m not materialistic. I do like gifts. It can range from a little note saying that you love me to a diamond bracelet. I am satisfied with anything between. I like to make a big deal of my birthday. Holidays are very important to me. It’s a celebration of life, of love. It symbolizes breaking my history. I cherish having fun and creating special moments. I have made this quite clear to my husband. Not clear enough.

For this birthday, I decided to put the onus on my husband. I’m practicing letting go of the reigns. He can handle making dinner reservations and setting up childcare. After all, he has been a part of this annual ritual for the last 8 years.

It’s three days before my birthday and I have not heard a peep about it. I’m getting anxious. I asked my nanny if my husband had talked to her about said date and she said no. Now I am worried. I decide to intervene.

Me: Honey

Husband: Yes?

Me: Are we doing anything for my birthday?

Husband: Of course.

Me: Oh (I’m so proud of him). What are we doing?

Husband: We are going to Avra.

I’ve been dying to go to Avra. It’s the cool new and pricey restaurant in Beverly Hills. I am so happy to know that my husband has heard me and took action, no questions asked. Although, right now, it feels too expensive. Not because I am not worth it but we are looking to cut expenses.

Me and my controlling personality decide to look up a few other restaurants. To my surprise, it’s DineLA week! How awesome! We found a great deal at a restaurant I’ve been wanting to try. I’m satisfied.

Me: What time is the sitter coming over?

(Husband falls silent)

Me: Did you call the sitter?

Husband: (hesitantly)No

I try to stay calm. We don’t have family in a nearby vicinity to help out. We spend a lot of money on childcare. A last-minute sitter is a very challenging task. In our experience 72 hours has never been enough notice. I assumed my husband knew this. We’ve had to cancel plenty of plans because of this dilemma. This whole thing often evolves into FOMO.

Me: Why don’t you text her…now.

Husband: Ok.

And that’s it. We are all set for my birthday.

The next morning, I receive a text from our nanny. It reads: “On Wednesday, I can only stay till six. I have a very important appointment that I cannot miss.”

Well, Wednesday is my birthday.

My heart sinks. I revert back to a little girl left out of the party. Ugh! My husband never text her!

I react and text my husband: “Our nanny cannot stay later on Wednesday!” I also decide to add, “I’m so mad at you for not securing her earlier.”

Now, I know some of you may think I am behaving in an immature way or I sound like a bitch. “What’s the big deal?” you might ask. “Grow up!” you might say.

Well, given my history, celebrating my birthday is partly me parenting myself. I’m letting the universe know that I love myself. I am participating in my own life and rewriting my story. Now that I am married, I’d like to think that my husband shares in the importance of this.

My husband is a wonderful guy! He’s not at all malicious. He is a loving dad and always tries his best for us. This is one instance where I’m not feeling cherished. I am a little angry and his action hurt my feelings.

Without sounding sexist, it’s pretty much a fact that women are much better at multi-tasking than men. Women tend to think long term while men think short term. Time doesn’t mean the same thing to men as it does for women. These are big stereotypes that tend to hold true in my relationship.

I know it was a simple oversight. After all, he did make the dinner reservation. I don’t want to ruin my birthday with the silent treatment. Ignoring my husband sometimes lasts a few days and would extend way past my birthday.

I decide to make a very mature decision. I’ll calm down and forgive him. This is not such an unreasonable delay. My self-pity is futile. I suppose we can celebrate on the 17th or 18th. Even though my birthday is on the 16th.

As I make my way home, it begins to rain. I create the intention of surrendering this circumstance to the universe. I’ll let the rain wash it away.

I park my car, walk up to our place, and put my key in the door. My husband is home. I’m not sure how this is going to go. He walks towards me and wraps his arms around me.

Husband: “I’m sorry for my mistake. Your birthday is very important to me too.”

I embrace him too. I soften. My heart opens. Before I can utter a word. I receive a text. It’s from our nanny, “I was able to cancel my appointment. I can stay as late as you need me to on Wednesday.” Wednesday is the 16th, my birthday