here today

 

happy birthday

 I am a baby about my birthday and I blame that on my parents. 

They've set up unreasonable expectations.  When I was little I had slumber parties every year & we had pizza and rootbeer & pancakes in the morning shaped like elephants.   My parents talked about the Big Day for weeks in advance, planning the presents, the invitations, the cupcakes for my class at school. 

God I love my birthday.

Everyone else hates it.  Poor Ben.  I have pictures of ten little girls in pjs making a pyramid with me on top, a big grin on my root beer stained mouth.  No way to compete with that.  My friends can't do better than last year, when the hospital where I was born was being demolished and my parents searched through the rubble for the perfect rock from the foundation then wrapped it up in two letters celebrating my Birth Day. 

When I was in college, my dad would write a birthday poem, my mom would send a box of apples from an Oregon orchard, sure that in NYC I couldn't possibly be getting good produce.  And this Saturday, on my 35th birthday, after hours of shopping and five new outfits for work, mom and dad took Ben & I out for dinner, I wore the sombrero and the waiters sang happy birthday to me in Spanish and oh boy, once a year at least, my parents get it right.

Posted by: 120pages at 14:34 | link | comments (4) |