The simple pleasures, according to a 36 year old.
Today is my birthday.
(…thank you!)
Last week as I was tidying the basement, the bin of my childhood memorabilia caught my eye. Through the clear plastic, I spotted a pink journal with a floral print. I was drawn to the journal, one that my mom used to write to me periodically. The first entry was from my 9th birthday, and she told me about the day of my birth. Twenty seven years (somebody check that math?) and three kids of my own later, her story feels exciting in a new way. My mom writes about the joy my birth brought her…she thanked God for me…she tells me how happy she was for the safe arrival of her second daughter.
I know that feeling, of waiting for a baby to arrive, of wondering and hoping and the restrained joy growing into exuberant, present joy. I’ve just never imagined it from the perspective of being that baby.
Today on my birthday, I was gifted a day to myself from my husband. The gift put me in a position to ask - “how do I want to spend my day, obligation free?”
After breakfast in bed and a run (okay, walk), I thought about how I’ve celebrated my birthday over the years, a reflection of what made me feel special during various stages of life. I’m remembering decorated lockers and being sung to at TGIFridays and a lollipop making party and chicken and dumpling dinners. There’s a stark contrast in my birthday today versus my teenage birthdays - then, I wanted to be surrounded by people, friends, the more the better, and today, amongst my family of five, I am seeking solitude. This year, my 6 and 4 year old said they wanted to gift me a “dog video game”…they wanted to throw me a party…a pure representation of how they like to celebrate…but what I chose for myself was a chance to drink a coffee and read a book.
I often joke about getting older, about how going to bed early with an old sitcom playing on my laptop is the perfect Friday night. I jest how boring I am, if what I prefer in a vacation is to sit still in one place versus my vacations in my 20’s where I wanted to see as much as possible. “A crowded bar?” I may quip, “MEHHH I’ll take a glass of wine from an $8 bottle on my couch, please!”
But what I’m saying, actually, is that I really, really enjoy simple things.
(…and also to that I need to remember to check in with my therapist about symptoms of “social anxiety disorder.”)
At this stage in my life, there’s so much in reach to enjoy. I ask my younger sister to braid my hair. The first sip of coffee in the morning is bliss. Making my husband laugh makes me feel like I’ve won the lottery. I’m awake to so much richness and beauty in my tiny backyard. “Does spring seem especially vibrant and beautiful this year?” I find myself asking every year, for the past 6 years. Maybe it’s because, as a caregiver to 3 littles, simple things - a warm meal and a hot shower - are hard to come by. But maybe, I’m coming home to my younger, truer self. Perhaps I’m a homebody who feels most grounded where my family and belongings are. By coming back to my childhood self, my inner self, I’ve been able to calm some of the fears of my twenties, where I felt pressure to move, prove, post and share, actively celebrate. The world is huge, I must conquer it all. Now, I find my world inside me, and I can have it all by lying on the living room floor while my children quietly play beside me. Maybe for me, being a kid and teen and young adult was for building, largeness, expansion, finding my boundaries…and now, in recent years, I’ve found myself come back to smallness…simplicity. This appreciation for simplicity seemed most heightened in each postpartum period after my children were born, when my mother-in-law’s ziti tasted better than the best meal you could have in Italy, and coffee with ghee in bed was intensely comforting. Maybe giving birth offers a portal to being a baby yourself, your needs similar to a newborn.
I think about my mom’s birth story and who I was on the day of my birth - a simple soul who, born at 43 weeks gestation, didn’t need much.
(I didn’t even actually need this outside world bullshit, could’ve been just fine in my mothers womb indefinitely but I guess my mom had different feelings on that).
What did I need then? What do my small kiddos need now?
Warmth.
Nourishment.
Loving touch.
Security.
This is what I crave. This is where I find pleasure. This is how I want to celebrate 36.