Today is my 36th birthday. My five-year-old has been eagerly — EAGERLY — anticipating my birthday with unbridled joy and excitement. She’s been borderline obsessed, it’s all she’s talked about for over a week, and she has told everyone she encounters, from her kindergarten classmates to the cashier at Target, that her mama’s birthday is coming. She told me last weekend that she was going to throw me a surprise party, and was sorely disappointed when I explained to her that it takes some time and planning to throw a party, and we have no such plans this year. Early this morning, she heard me in the hallway on my way to the bathroom and yanked her bedroom door open with a pop, her eyes and mouth open just as wide in elation. “Is it today?!” she squealed, before giving me the biggest, tightest hug.

I don’t know if I’ve ever been as excited about my own birthday in my entire life as my daughter has been about it this year. It’s been a source of both amusement and puzzlement for me. But I think I’ve finally stumbled upon a good way to think about it.

She’s excited to celebrate me today, which is nice; pared down a little bit, she’s happy that I exist.

It’s easy in the hectic hubbub of life to forget how meaningful and validating this truth is for ourselves. It matters to feel like we matter.

Only an hour into my birthday and already I’m filled with gratitude.

It’s Jewish tradition to offer blessings to others on one’s birthday. I don’t know that it’s a blessing per se, but, in that same vein, I want to extend my kiddo’s zesty passion for my existence to you. I want you to know that you matter; I want you to know that I’m happy you exist. I want you to know that it’s a good thing that you’re here.

Celebrate the miracle that is your life in some way today, however small. Do something that reminds you how special you are. Life’s short; eat cake!