Well, I couldn’t write about it as I owed my dad his own special Father’s Day entry, but yesterday officially kicked off
TONI’S BIRTHDAY CELEBRATION WEEK
Yes, that’s right. Week. What–What.
On June 23rd, at the stroke of approximately 12:31 p.m., I, Toni, will be 26 YEARS OLD. And it will be the hour of Toni. And all the world will be abuzz with joy and delight, and no one was ever sad or hungry. And angels in pretty pink dresses sang, they sang songs of praise, praise to the newly-26 Toni on high…
For those of you who weren’t aware, the best day of the year is fast approaching. I expect no less than a humongous congratu-freakin’-lations from all of you. I’ve already gotten a brand new pink and white bike, compliments of my husband. In addition to this bike, though not neccessarily meant to be my presents, I’ve recieved a seat to put on the back of my bike for Mia to ride in, and a helmet for Mia to wear. This has so far been the best gift. I have already ridden (rode?) the bike with Mia in tow twice, once yesterday afternoon, and again this morning. I find it to be quite satisfactory.
Know this: I am not ashamed of getting older. In fact, I would like to get rid of the "aging" label once and for all, replacing it with words like "evolving", "growing"…and hopefully in my case, "getting much, much smarter."
Birthdays are great. I don’t care how old I get. This is my day, damnit, my day. Get me pancakes. Buy me a bike. Pick me a flower. Tell me I’m pretty. Sing me a song. But most importantly, get me pancakes.
Seriously, I love having birthdays. If I was to start hating them just because I was one step closer to 30, or 40, or whatever God gives me the luxury of turning, how would I view the rest of my life? Would I dread it, too? No. Not me. Especially now that I’m taking normal pills. My life is going to be a big fat hunka birthday cake from here on out.