My husband and I have birthdays that are only six days apart. Which, when we first got together, was annoying. Because who ever wants to share a birthday? (I mean, I guess some people don’t mind, but it wasn’t anything I ever wanted to do.) I might have been known for forcing our friends to celebrate twice within a one-week period so that I didn’t have to share my birthday.
And then I had a child. Suddenly, I got better at sharing. After all, I have a kid who takes food off my plate, who gets to choose what tv we watch, and whose sleeping schedule dictates when I’m allowed to leave the house. I just can’t be as selfish about birthdays anymore–or anything else, for that matter.
So this year we’re sharing our birthday celebration. We’re getting one fancy night out. Getting to go out (with free grandparent babysitting!) is such a treat that I’m willing to share it. We can let the waiters sing to both of us at the same time, even. And though we’re going on on Saturday night, I’m going to spend all of Shabbat anticipating. Because after all, it is my birthday (celebrated). I’m allowed to take one evening to have my life be (almost) all about me again, right?