Today is my birthday, and, I have to say, it’s been nice. I got breakfast in bed, which included a smoothie made from my brand-new blender. My ever-practical husband finally figured out he should wait a week to give me those household gifts instead of surprising me with them on Valentine’s Day. (Although I will admit that even though it didn’t smell like a rose, last year’s no-touch can opener did turn out to be pretty cool.)
I always miss my grandmothers on my birthday. My mother’s mother had the uncanny ability to, despite the unpredictable mail service, have a card waiting in my mailbox ON my birthday, not a day sooner or later. My dad’s mother would always call and sing happy birthday to me all the way through, and, despite the fact that her severe hearing loss rendered her off-key, it was beautiful music to my ears. She loved birthdays, perhaps that’s where I get it from.
Don’t get me wrong, I don’t need anyone making a big fuss over mine, but I like to go all out for my children. We’ve done princess parties, complete with a large castle made from refrigerator boxes painted pink. We’ve made homemade piñatas from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles to Spiderman. We’ve had cowboy and Indian parties, with toy guns and bow and arrows, not to mention a teepee in the backyard.
We’ve even rented a giant blow-up waterslide for my son’s April birthday and watched the kids shiver themselves silly. Oh, that reminds me, we’ve had pirate parties with swords and eye patches, slumber parties, rock climbing parties, Chuck E Cheese parties, movie parties, gymnastic parties, and surprise parties. I am truly the party mom!
All three children have birthdays coming up, and I can’t wait to start planning. My husband tends to worry about the budget, but I say let them eat cake—they’re only young once.
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