Princess in ToyLand

There are only two options when turning 40; major blow out or ultra lowkey. Unless you're me, of course. I've managed to do both; My gift to myself is a solo trip to Norway for reasons I can't begin to explain (but will try in a future post). However, due to the unfortunate fact that I am an adult (In other words, I couldn't get the time off work), I have to wait till December. In the meantime, I've invited a handfull of family (+ one co-worker) over on my actual birthday for a non-party; tacos, cupcakes, & alcohol. As for presents, there are no presents over 18. Not really anyway. Sure, your sister may get you a sweater or whatever and your mom might suprise you with pre-paid hair appointments for the next few months but other than that... Gone are the days of legos, train sets, and dolls. When you woke up on your birthday excited for the onslaught of toys comming your way. Do you remember the first time you realized you didn't even want toys anymore? I do. It was Christmas time. Toys R Us (I'd be concerned with dating myself if I hadn't already told you I was 40) sent out a massive catalog every year around this time called the big toy book, or something like that. Me, my sister, and two of my cousins (Vicki & Teri didn't live with us so I have no idea how this went down in their house) would snatch up this catalog and take turns marking (a different colored marker for each of us, of course) all the toys we wanted. Well, there was one year (I can't remember how old I was) when I eagerly grabbed at that catalog and tore through its pages, purple marker at the ready...only to discover that the toys that year seemed somewhat...juvenile. I was horrified as I turned page after page and found very little that appealed to me. And that was it. Just like that, I had grown up. I was officially too old for toys. Apparenty, my friend Mary never got the memo. I've known Mary since freshman year of college. She had a reputation for being a bit...odd. (So you can see why we became friends). Mary is the kind of person who remembers your parent's names, your pet's names, and all of your favorite things. She's sent me a gift for my birthday, Christmas, and Easter every year for the last 20 years. I remember one time I was having a particularly bad day. I came home in quite the mood, only to check my mail and discover a heart-shaped necklace made of red sparkling flowers. It was June 1st and Mary had sent it for my birthday (nevermind that my birthday is the 18th). I instantly felt my entire bad day melt. On Friday I came home from work to a giant box on my doorstep. My birthday gift from Mary had arrived (a week early, of course). I opened the box and peeked inside just enough to see that whatever she sent wasn't wrapped so I didn't look any further (I can wait). And while I don't know exactly what it is yet, I do know one thing; it's a doll. Not a collector's item but a toy. This didn't suprise me; most of Mary's gifts were toys. And it was in this moment I realized something wonderful; at 40 years old I'm still getting toys for my birthday. Yeah, my hair is going grey and I'm supremely jealous of my students at nap time, but when I open a gift from Mary, 9 times out of 10, for a split second, I get to be nine again. Mary's gift may look like a doll, or a sparkly necklace, or an overly childish (even for me) blanket, but what she's really giving me is the gift of time; not present time, but past time. An invaluable gift always.