Pretending to like my birthday . . . and other horrible things for my kids

I really dislike my birthday.  Disliking it has nothing to do with getting older.  It is the one remaining obstacle of an almost reformed shy girl.  I've discoverd some people (namely my three extrovert children) don't understand what being shy means.  They've never been afraid of going new places or meeting new people or having everyone in the room look at them.  Just so you extroverts can understand a little bit better, at my very worst I bravely flew to Chicago with near strangers to build my home business but didn't speak to them for several hours upon arriving.  And had been know for refusing to call Moviefone.  (In the days before the internet you used to call this number to get all the movie showtimes in your area - PS It was a recording). 

When I was little I didn't mind the day, but I'm pretty sure that had a lot more with being able to watch my brothers do my chores than anything with my actual birthday.  When we were first married, my loving husband threw me a surprise birthday party.  I've been told that my reaction to the celebration was more on par with being greeted by a room full of serial killers and not a room full of loving friends.  In a effort to avoid the trauma of the day I've gone out of my way to remove the date from any public display.  I've even deleted it from Facebook.  A few days ago I had a nightmare that my husband wished me happy birthday on my wall and woke up in a panic unreasonable worried that people would find out.  This might give you a brief insite into the stranger inner workings of my psyche. 

I don't mind if people secretly and without a big todo wish me happy birthday.  I am blessed to have amazing friends and family who make me feel special and loved every day so I don't feel like I need extra recognition on THAT day.  With all of this, I've pondered cancelling my birthday all together and not bothering with the anxiety and the panic.  However, I have four kids and two daughters.  I don't want my girls to grow up thinking that moms don't get birthdays.  They are wonderful outgoing unshy girls.  I don't want them to affected by my shortcomings.  So I wake up on my birthday and put on my bravest smile and let my kids wish my a happy day, and sing, and try my best not to run away from the spotlight.

This is a best and worst thing about being a mom all wrapped up into one uncomfortable growth enducing package.  Because of my kids I do hard things.  I want them to grow up to be brave, and kind, and unafraid of anything the world throws at them.  I want to be a good example and show them and even moms do hard things sometimes. I'm not totally reformed.  I don't think I'll ever become a "look at me" person.  Thought I may never love birthday attention, hopefully it'll become one of those hard things that is a little bit easier to get through every year.