Last week was my 35th birthday. It was a Monday like any other—I woke up.  I went to work. I came home. I went grocery shopping. We had dinner.  I spent a little time with my husband.  I went to bed. All the little things that make up a day—pretty unordinary for a birthday, but it was a Monday, after all.

 

Except, there’s more to it than just that.

 

I woke up and got my son up. The two of us enjoyed some alone time together before daddy got up, a time of day I always look forward to. I went to work, to a job I love, one that feels challenging and rewarding and satisfying. I came home to a bouquet of yellow roses from my guys. My husband took over the bedtime routine, so that I had time to myself. I went grocery shopping, a chore I honestly enjoy, and I got to go by myself, which was heavenly. When I got home, I took a long, hot shower, which was also heavenly. After my son was asleep, my husband and I cooked a late dinner, and enjoyed it together, just the two of us. We spent time snuggling on the couch before going to bed.

 

Yes, it was a Monday like any other, but those little things that made up the day are actually the big things that make up a life worth celebrating, on my birthday or any other ordinary day.

Me and teenager Lenny on the morning of my birthday. Photo credit Gena Golas.

Me and teenager Lenny on the morning of my birthday.
Photo credit Gena Golas.

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