41...

Today is my 41st birthday.

As I've discussed before, I tend to get very excited about my birthday. I always struggled to be considered "special" among my siblings and peers, so my birthday was the one day that was "mine," where at least for a little while, I could be the center of attention.

Even now, as an adult, I excitedly await the arrival of my birthday each year. It isn't the presents—really. What I enjoy most is hearing from my friends and family, whether they call or email with birthday wishes, send birthday cards or now, thanks to Facebook, post birthday wishes on my wall. There's just something pretty heartwarming about hearing "happy birthday" from people I've known since high school, college, summer camp, previous jobs, etc.

Yesterday we drove up to New Jersey for my nephew's third birthday party. Apparently what he loves more than anything is seeing lit candles on a cake, and having people sing to him. Maybe that's a family trait, because that's another thing I love about birthdays, too.

I don't ask for a particular present or event on my birthday—all I want is the opportunity to blow out a candle in a piece of cake or other dessert, and have a few people sing "Happy Birthday" to me. While the superstitious part of me thinks this is what is necessary for birthday wishes to come true, the birthday-loving part of me just likes the ceremony. (I always loved when my friends would tell the server at Bennigan's or a similar restaurant that it was my birthday, because that meant the "Bennigan's Birthday Song.")

So...happy birthday to me. I don't feel much older, happily, and I don't feel any wiser. (I don't feel less wise, so that's no problem.) And although I'm struggling a bit right now with where I am professionally and personally, I know I am loved by so many people, so it makes the struggle a little easier to bear.

I'm off to dinner and blowing out a candle, hopefully. (We do have a contingency plan in place, don't worry.)