Birthdays and the American Dream

When you are little, birthdays are more about the parents. I realized this when I didn't go a child's birthday party once. My thought process? The kid is one/two/three; he/she isn't going to remember. You know who will remember? The parents. I felt bad, really, really bad. They go to all lengths to throw a great party to celebrate the passing of a year, renting out places, jumping castles, and clowns (which half the kids are scared of) or Chuck E Cheese (which the other half are scared of) and cake that they proceed to let the kid smoother all over themselves. I hear stories about favors and see facebook posts about spending hoards of money and well, I don't get it; obviously, I am not a parent. And, yes, I know it is different when it is your kid and yes, I will one day look back at this and laugh when I have just rented a bouncy thingy, but remember this blog is before found "you" (yes, the you is vague for a reason and yes, I actually do want one of those little ones, so maybe there is a twinge of jealousy there as well). I am just saying, I believe that it is more for the parent than the child at a young age. Then comes elementary school where you bring cupcakes for all your classmates. This could be, perhaps, my favorite. You get to practice the art of giving. Look how happy everyone else is that it is your birthday. They cheer. They sing. They eat ice cream. Maybe it is brainwashing for the years to come but regardless, everyone loves a good piece of cake. I forgot about the presents. You get presents. Most kids love this part. Maybe that is why we make them bring cupcakes to share at school, to compensate for the presents (or is that what those little favor bags are for-what was ever in those?). At some point, we quit having parties, because we are too cool. I think that is around high school, but honestly, high school and early college are a bit of a blur for me past my 8th grade birthday when I got to have a girls and boys party... Thanks Mom. That was very daring of you. Dad probably took the night off for that one! Ok-I do remember that on every birthday my mom used to pick me up from school and take me out to lunch. That was pretty cool. I remember when I turned 11, my card said one-teen and I remember feeling so cool! Thanks, Mom. I feel like in high school, you always wanted to be older. The magic age was 13 because then you were a "teen"ager , then 16, then 18, then 21, then 25. Then SLOW DOWN. Well, you are okay with your age from 25-29 then STOP. I remember then last day of my 20s. I was at work and I was a wreck. I hid it well, I'm sure, because I went to the bathroom and cried. Then, I'm back to my happy self teaching about the American Dream, and how we can all have anything we want if we work hard enough and try hard enough. Yes, and no. (Really, think about it. I just gave a half hour lecture to 17 year olds on this, you can do it.) What is so big about hitting 30 and every year after that? Well, I think it is because we measure ourselves according to standards we cannot achieve. Society says by the age of 30 you should have accomplish what most of us can barely accomplish by the age of forty: advanced education, advanced family, house, two cars, stable income, travel etc. Ok, I admit it. I want all these things. I have checked a lot of things off of my list, and I actually I have checked off most things that I can accomplish. So, what is left? The things I can not control, you know, finding love and all... This is scary. I am a bit of a type A, so I like my life neat and in control. The American Dream says work hard enough, try hard enough and you can be anything you want to be. So, herein lies the disconnect. When you are younger, you are still reaching for the dream, wanting to be older, excited for the next year. At some point you realize the some parts of the American dream are elusive and unattainable by your own efforts. Pretty damn depressing, I know. Wait for it.... There are two definitions for "dream": A condition or achievement that is longed for; an aspiration. Something exceptionally gratifying, excellent, or beautiful. I opt for door number two. This is the year of my American Dream, an exceptionally gratifying, excellent, or beautiful year. Because, our destiny remains our choice.