Maybe, just maybe I expect too much of my family sometimes.

It's my birthday tomorrow, but we celebrated today. As in we had to wait until dinner was cooked at around eight thirty tonight. We had to wait until around ten when my son had finished decorating my cheesecake. The same cheesecake he was supposed to make, but I ended up making last night. Not to mention how the prawns needed to be picked out and cooked again because my daughter just followed the recipe and didn't employ any of that common sense we've tried to stuff her brain with for the last 17 years. Then there's the way I needed to shop for all this special stuff in the midst of crazy sales in shopping centres filled with manic shoppers. Just whose birthday is it anyway?

As I stood there in tears last night as I blended ricotta and cream cheeses together I had to remind myself that maybe I'm being unfair.

I am the one who goes out and buys their special treats for their birthdays. I make the meal or simply provide it, whatever. I actually do this, for the most part, every day, too. I tend their needs; anticipate their desires, work hard to keep things in some kind of order. I'm mum and the long-suffering wife. But that's not their job; it's mine. They don't know how to anticipate anything I might need or feel or want. They're the hubby and the kids. They just don't get it.

So, not only do I look after them I end up looking after my own celebrations, which doesn't make me feel like anything special in the long run. When I end up working this hard, it starts to feel like I'm just not worth the effort.

Why should I be the one to go out of my way, for myself? Surely that's not how it's meant to be. I stressed and rushed. I shopped and worried. All because they do important things like work, sleep in and play around with their friends. And I don't need to do any of those things, obviously.

Excuse my moody entry. I'm just feeling a little down. I turn 40 tomorrow and I'm starting to wonder if I've actually missed the boat as far as getting my family to understand exactly where I'm at. Thing is, I only want what they get all the time, for just one day, one meal, one moment. Yet it seems that is all too much to expect. I need to learn to be grateful for whatever it is they do for me. My personal standard of service is high, and yet no one ever meets up to that when it comes to what I need.

Okay, the cheesecake tastes okay. The only thing missing was my son's delicate touch. The meal was pretty good once the kids pulled all the prawns out and recooked them in the fry pan. My gifts were lovely. Hubby made a massage certificate booklet for me on the computer and printed it out. I can cash these in any time I like. The kids put in and bought me a handcrafted leather purse. I really need one, as the one I have is just about dead. And my daughter made me one of her birthday cards.

I'm not complaining about these things. I'm just feeling fragile and a bit battered. I didn't feel turning 30. It was just another day to me. But I am feeling turning 40. What's the difference besides a decade? I have no idea, but inside I'm just all in turmoil and greasy. It's unsettling. I had to write it down and this is the only outlet I've had all day. Please excuse my rant.