People want to know what I did on my birthday. Because of my age, I cannot remember.

But I do know what I did not do.

• I did not care that I ate chocolate cake for breakfast. Or lunch. There are plenty of other days for watching my diet.
• I did not take the day off because I am unbelievably lucky to love my job and there is nowhere else I’d rather be than in the yoga room.
• I did not make the beds, and guess what? The world did not end.
• I did not drive anybody, anywhere, or pick anything up, or drop anything off. For a mother that is like the Insurrection.
• I did not worry about money when I picked out the most beautiful scarf I have ever seen. After all, there are 364 other days to worry about money. If we go to jail for indebtedness, I will bring it with me.
• And I did not care what the salesperson thought when I threw myself at my husband, indecently, to thank him.
• I did not judge that my fruit serving came floating in a drink, which is the place I believe where fruit serves us best.
• I did not hesitate to have one more piece of chocolate cake for dessert. Not. For. One. Second.
• I did not listen to my children complain when I kissed them and mussed up their hair, because very soon they will be going to college and I won’t be able to do that on my birthday.
• And for once, I did not focus on where I need to be, how much work it will take to get there, how many columns I had to write or books I need to edit. I wasn’t finding more. On this day, I was good with what I had.

Want 15 free additional reads weekly, just our best?

Get our weekly newsletter.

Editor: Bryonie Wise