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It turns out, I have a birthday coming up. In just seven short days, I will be 26 years old. I know: it kinda boggles my mind, too. I didn’t see this one coming.

I don’t remember the age at which my birthday stopped making me all excited, giving me butterflies in my stomach and keeping me awake at night with eager anticipation. It seems like it was quite some time ago. I think I was vaguely excited to turn 21, but even that wasn’t anything all that special. As I recall, I stayed in with my best friend and my girlfriend and had a few drinks — inadvertently missing a family party I wasn’t anticipating in the process. But that was the extent of the celebration.

As a kid, of course, I got excited like everyone else. I made lists, both in my head and on paper, of presents I was hoping to get, people I wanted to see, and things I wanted to do on my special day. There was always a cake, and usually homemade ice cream, and family would gather and sing “happy birthday” and I would blow out the candles at the end. Classic birthday stuff. I would open presents while people watched and ooh’d and aah’d as the boxes were opened.

And this stuff excited me. I often tried to pretend like it didn’t, play cool and all that, but it really did. And then somewhere along the line, I guess I quit pretending so much. Nowadays, I usually don’t even remember my birthday is coming. Was it not for our Spanish teacher having us write out our birthdates in Spanish last week, I’m not sure I would have remembered until a day or two prior. One of these days, I’m worried I’ll forget about it altogether. Many of my friends think this is strange: they start preparing and celebrating weeks in advance of the day, and are childlike (in a good way) in their enthusiasm.

This year, I’m making a concerted effort to ensure my birthday is something special. For starters, I’m taking the day off work. That’s pretty special already. Amanda and I are going to be spending the weekend in Minnesota for a Wurzinger family reunion (I seem to travel a lot right around my birthday) on Saturday. Sunday, we’ll hang out with her parents, and then get dinner somewhere in the city and go out for drinks. On Monday, we’re going to the Valley Fair amusement park for the day before heading home that evening. It should be a good time. A memorable time. Perhaps it will inspire me to look forward to my next birthday with a bit of that excitement I seem to have lost somewhere along the way.

For those of you who are in to the present-buying thing, but aren’t in to the coming up with your own ideas thing, my Amazon wish list is decently up to date. In case anyone was considering a scooter-themed gift, be warned that the scooter doesn’t look like it will happen until next year now. I know… it breaks my heart, too.