Birthday mornings

The first hour of my day is usually the best part of my day, which is to say that I am an introvert and set my alarm at least an hour before anyone else in my house gets up so that I can be completely alone and selfish.

On my birthday, I did something a little different: I set my alarm a little later, though still early enough that I didn't have to talk to anyone, and went to a yoga class.  Not only was my favourite yoga teacher subbing (don't take that statement too seriously - I've only been to half a dozen yoga classes in the last year), but no one else showed up.  It was just me.  The world was working in my favour.

I started my day with a tiny bit a sweat and bliss: my favourite.  And then I had to go home and merge with reality.  Did anyone make dinner for me?  No.  What about a cake?  Nope.  Breakfast?  No.  Who had to put sunscreen on the screaming toddler?  Me.  But that's all part of the life I've chosen.  Even on your birthday, its still just a day.

And do you know what's on the flip side of the proverbial coin of motherhood?  Coming home from yoga to find water waiting for me in a wine glass, because Nevin knows I like drinking from that special glass.  Handmade birthday cards.  "Happy birthday, Mama!"'s expressed with glee.  Nostalgia from the six-year-old.  When the greetings were done and the water drank, Scarlett looked to imaginary stage left and said, wistfully, "Oh, where do the years go?"

Honestly, I don't really know where the years go or how I ended up in my mid-thirties with all the bells, whistles and kids.  A series of decisions lead me here, but it is the decisions I make first thing in the morning that keep me moving forward with intention.