***Preface: This post is about birthdays. Specifically mine. I was raised in a family where birthdays were celebrated. I have come to embrace the tradition of celebrating birthdays with loved ones. I like birthday presents. Call me greedy if you want, but say it softly so I can’t hear. I don’t think presents have to cost any money at all. If Poor Kyle were to simply write me a long, juicy love letter, I would consider myself gifted.

Since I know that would never happen, I wrote this post.***

Every year when my birthday rolls around, I set out to be close-lipped about it. I always want to see who will remember and who will forget. By not mentioning my birthday, I can assess who really loves me and who doesn’t. I’m pretty big on martyrdom, in case you haven’t noticed.

Unfortunately, I can never make it all the way to my birthday without blabbing to the world, so I never get to find out who my real friends are. I may never know.

This year is no different.

My birthday is coming up next week. I’ll be turning 22. [I kind of chuckle to myself when I realise that I’m turning 22, because most people I associate with are significantly older than me. Even the kids I went to school with are all turning 23 this year. I kind of have it in my head that everyone who reads this blog is older than me, and wiser to boot. So when I come to conclusions about marriage and money and life in general, I always feel like I’m the last one to know.]

Anyway, despite all my efforts not to remind Poor Kyle of my upcoming day, I have a niggling doubt in the back of my mind: “What if he actually does forget? How will I respond? This is the first birthday he’s ever been faced with as my husband–what if he totally embarrasses himself?”

Not wanting to answer any of those potentially dangerous questions, I decided I’d better make sure he remembers. So for the past few weeks, I’ve been mentioning it.

And I’m easy to please, for sure. In fact, I’ve gone so far as to flat-out tell him things I would like for my birthday. None of them are expensive or out of our budget, because–though I do think birthdays should be celebrated–it’s not worth breaking the bank.

Any of the following items would make me a very happy birthday person indeed:

1. The best chapstick I’ve ever used. I’ve gone through three tubes and am due for another. Highly recommended (along with Burt’s Bee’s Pomegranate, my second-favourite).

Image from here.

2. Heather Bailey’s Trash Ties. One set of long, one set of short. I’ve been intrigued by these since before they became available, but they’re more costly than I would spend normally on hair dohickies. As far as birthday presents go, however, they’re pretty cheap.

Image from here.

3. A self-hosted blog. What a nice gift from Poor Kyle this would be. It may or may not be in the works right now. Stay tuned for more [or no] details.

4. A stipend to paint my kitchen. The purple walls are cramping my style, and I think I’ve finally picked a colour I like. I’ve got the time, I’ve got the vision…now all I need is the cash flow. Maybe once it’s decorated how I’d like, I can finally post photos of my house and put Jami’s curious mind to rest.

Twenty-two is coming soon. Let’s hope he doesn’t blow it.

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