Some history: For many years I celebrated my birthday like everyone else: cake, ice cream & some presents. Well, ten years ago I had five small children ranging from five mos. to nine years of age. That was the year that I realized that what I really wanted for my birthday was a day just for me... a "Polly Day". This was to be a day when I could go into my nice, clean room with some take-out Chinese, some high-end snackage, several chick-flicks and my scrapping supplies and lock the door for a good twelve hours.
Rules! There must be rules.
First, no one is allowed to knock on my door. No one. Come to think of it... that is really the only rule.
Don't get me wrong. 364 days of the year (give or take a few days depending on the year) I prefer to spend my time with my people. I just realized that the day will come when my children will move on to their own adventures, and when that happens I'll need to know how to spend quality time with myself. Well, to be honest, I probably didn't think about the deeper meaning of Polly Day initially, but the wisdom of it came to me in time.
I feel like I've stumbled on to a bit of what heaven must feel like, but I think that the anticipation of it, and the rarity of it are what make it so magical. I don't think it would be as satisfying if this were something that happened all the time. It's the difference between snacking and savoring. There are things I do on a regular basis for a "snack" of Me-Time. But this... well, this is my soul's Thanksgiving Feast! Just as with Thanksgiving, the true greatness of the moment can only be enjoyed if I have spent the other 364 days of the year being grateful for all the normal, day-to-day things that make my life worth celebrating.
So, go ahead and celebrate "(Insert your name here) Day" with me. But, don't forget Rule #1.
I'm not answering my door today.
