The Best Kept Secret Blog - Birthday Blues

There were only two occasions that I remember my mother feeling blue.

The first time was when her hairdresser talked her into an "of the moment" pixie cut and my father told her he felt like he was married to a man.

The other time was on her 48th birthday.

None of us - my father, my brother or myself - remembered it was her birthday. Mother didn't say a word to remind us. She probably was wondering how long it would take us to remember or if we even would.

We all went shopping at Eaton's that afternoon and had come home with our purchase - a wooden hamburger press. Mom was trying out the new press, making dinner, when she casually mentioned, "It's my birthday."

Our reactions were mixed. My brother grunted and went to watch Hockey Night In Canada. I made a lame suggestion that the hamburger press could be her birthday present. And my dad looked like he was calculating how big a present he would have to buy in order to make up for his foible.

My mother just quietly went about making dinner but I could tell she was sad.

This would never happen to me because I like a big fuss to be made on my birthday.

I make sure my family knows it's coming up. They're way beyond remembering my birthday. They're in the land of "We'd better make it good or there will be heck to pay." And just to make sure things measure up, I have a wee tradition of taking myself shopping on the big day. I look forward to my birthday each year.

Except this year.

This week I turned 46 and for the first time, I didn't want the birthday to come. If I'm being honest, I was a little depressed. I don't mind the number and I wouldn't want to be a minute younger. I like being at this stage in life.

But this birthday was a reminder that I'm one step closer to, well, death. For the first time, I'm getting an inkling that there's not plenty of time left. I've known it in my head for a while but I'm knowing it in a different way now.

My husband suggests that this is where mid-life crisis' take root. That people panic and go out and have affairs with their assistants or buy those red sports cars or those really good purses. He may be right.

Going Gray author Anne Kreamer whom I interviewed this week said that when she was in her early fifties, she calculated she had some 20 odd years left going by life expectancy charts. This realization spurred her on to make choices about how she chose to spend her time. I assumed this meant doing some great charitable work or climbing Mount Everest. But no, for her it meant spending more time hanging out and watching TV with her children.

I admire Anne's outlook. And hey, life is short. It's time to cut to the chase and make the right choices. I think I'll go make the kids some hamburgers.