The Terrorists Didn't Ruin My Birthday

This is an exciting birthday for me. I'm turning 36 which I believe to be an inconsequential birthday. I can already drive, vote, drink and I've already made it into the "35 and above" category. But this year I get to celebrate without being sick. No treatment. No surgery. Nothing bad ahead of me (at least that I'm aware of).

I decide that Boris and I should celebrate in New York. I love it there and we haven't been in an almost 3 years. Our trip will be dictated by food, as all of our trips are. I spend hours researching the best and newest restaurants. I post lists on Chowhound asking for help narrowing down our choices and make Boris and myself 2 reservations per night just to be safe. We also get theater tickets because how can you go to New York and not see a show? We plan our entire Saturday around the show. Pre-theater dinner at 6, post theater dinner at 11. It doesn't leave a ton of time for breakfast, lunch, the Met and Central Park. So we skip breakfast and lunch (gasp!), spend a few hours at the museum and walking though the park, have a light dinner (if a burger can be light) and head off to the theater. As we near Times Square it's so crowded we can barely walk. I assume it's tourists and am instantly annoyed. Boris and I work our way through the crowd but it's so dense we make little headway. We're late and I'm stressed. We finally make it near our theater and notice fire trucks, police cars and a barricade down the street our theater is on. Police officers are yelling at the crowd instructing us to stay on the sidewalk and start clearing the area. "All shows are canceled for now," they yell. A few smart asses, including us, wonder if "for now" means that "sometime later," the show won't be canceled and we don't move. Whispers of a fire rustle through the crowd. Then one onlooker claims that it's a bomb scare. That sounds ridiculous to me and I'm certain she's a republican. After 40 minutes of waiting around and a police officer shouting that all shows are cancelled (no modifier), Boris and I decide we should suck it up and leave.

I'm pissed since our day would have been totally different if we knew we weren't going to a show. I'm complaining as Boris and I leave the theater district. "Sharon, look!" Boris exclaims. "Check out that guy in the Hurt Locker bomb suit." Holy shit. It really was a bomb scare. We decide we'll head back to our apartment for some pre second dinner nookie. Boris asks if I want my present when we get inside. Duh. "I always want presents," I tell him and I'm just so happy that he got me a birthday present without me having to ask! He takes out a pink jewelry box from his suitcase. It's from the designer who made a charm bracelet for me that has the initials of our family on it. Boris gave me a diamond encrusted "M" when Miles was born and a "B" for Baron (after an asshole at my radiologist's office stole the necklace with Baron's initials that Boris gave me when he was born). I'm oblivious as I open to box. It's a blank charm. I smile, still not getting it. "It's pretty," I lamely say. "Should I have written TBD on it?" Boris asks. I start crying realizing that he's giving me a blank charm for our future unborn daughter (we hope!). Besides being the best gift ever ever, it's a huge deal because during our last third baby discussion, Boris told me that he really wasn't sure he wanted a third child. He's still tired and we're so busy with the boys. But he knows that I will be absolutely devastated if we don't at least try to have her and so this gift was also his way of saying that we are going to try to have another baby.

What a difference a few years make. The first birthday Boris and I celebrated together was my 30th. We had been dating about 6 months. Boris told me that his family never really exchanged gifts and that he wasn't very good at it. Major understatement. He told me that his thought for my gift was to do some rewiring in my condo that he knew I needed. I'm totally serious. I had to explain that while playing handyman was very practical and indeed necessary, it's not a gift. It's what a boyfriend should do. A gift to me is tangible. Preferably something I can wear that comes in a small box. A few days before my birthday he did indeed hand me a relatively small box for my birthday. I opened it to find a Roomba. For those of you who don't know what a Roomba is, it's a robotic vacuum cleaner that cleans on its own. Swear. Again, a totally practical gift for me since I want someone to vacuum my house all day long, but not a romantic gift at all. And it was noisy and scared the shit out of my cats (literally) and never made it much past the litter box where it would just turn around and around and around. So he took it back. Ironically, Boris tells me, the makers of Roomba have a military version that disposes of bombs. In the end I received a nice gift certificate from Fresh (at the time my favorite bath line). So a charm for unborn baby girl is a miracle from the man who wanted to rewire my condo and bought me a vacuum.

The terrorists didn't ruin my birthday. 36 was amazing. I feel good and worship my family. Life is good.