It’s official. I’ve reached a point in my life when I’m no longer entirely certain about my age. Now when I’m asked my age, I find I have to do the maths in my head and hope it’s right. I guess after passing the 30th milestone, everything has started to blur a little. Nevertheless, despite not knowing my age, I do still love a good birthday celebration, which is why the past weekend was so sweet.
Jasper has just started to equate birthdays with cake. Glorious, sugar-filled cake. I regularly hear “happy birthday you!” yelled out around the house and look over to see him constructing a cake from playdough, with pasta poked in as a candle, that is then handed to a toy to eat. If it were up to him, cake topped with candles would be a daily occurrence. But almost as good are the presents, which he thrusts at you before attacking the wrapping paper with gusto. It’s too cute.
But back to the point.
In years past I would have wanted a big birthday party, or a dinner out with my friends where the wine is poured freely and the cheese is cut generously. Something to really make me feel it’s my birthday. Or since becoming a mum I would’ve settled for a solo cup of tea in bed enjoyed with a few pages of my book.
This year, not so much. Steve’s been working long hours and often on the weekends too, and as the year winds down I’m feeling a little rundown myself so I wanted something a little slower and more special. Food and family front and centre, with a little yoga and sunshine thrown in as an added bonus. and that’s exactly what I got, with a few elements accidentally combining to turn the affair into a weekend celebration.
A long promised date night was booked in for the the Friday, and saw us head for dinner at Julius (while bub had his first sleep over at the grandparents) where we gorged ourselves on calamari, duck ragu and other carby deliciousness, enjoyed with wine and limoncello. This was followed by a lazy Saturday brunch at a favourite cafe where we relished in the fact we could read the newspaper and drink our coffee without having to chase an energetic toddler. It almost made up for our body clocks still waking us up before 7am. Then Steve pulled out the big guns on Saturday for his fancy dinner, spending three hours in the kitchen making this moussaka that we ate while watching Black Panther.
Then the big day dawned sunny and warm, so we packed the picnic blanket, cheese and fruit and cake – I made myself Donna Hay’s Coconut Cake from Seasons – and headed to the river for a few hours of park fun before Japer and I drove bayside to see my family for the afternoon.
It wasn’t big or adventurous, but it was perfect.
So this is 34.