I have a lot of feels today – It’s my Mom’s birthday.
I think I must have given her lipstick and perfume every single year on her birthday and for Christmas. Obviously, I wasn’t all that creative in my gift giving back in those days…lol.
Surprisingly, she actually wore it all, too – though I’m sure my color tastes in lipstick as a kid were questionable, at best. Clearly, she’s a better person than I would have been…lol.
If it had been me – I’m sure that garish hot pink lipstick would have “mysteriously” fallen out of my purse. The perfume would have been “accidently” dropped into the toilet or something. Hey, maybe that’s why they call it “toilet water.” Lol.
As I think about birthdays past, it befuddles me at how few of them I can actually remember without photo prompts. Isn’t it weird how you can remember some things so vividly while others are banished into the sea of forgetfulness? Well, my forgetfulness is bigger than a sea… it’s more like an ocean. An ocean of forgetfulness.
Nope, that’s not big enough, either. It’s more like a galaxy. It’s a galaxy of forgetfulness. We might need a bigger galaxy.
One thing I DO remember, is that Mom would go out of her way to make our birthdays special. I don’t mean that she threw elaborate parties costing thousands of dollars like people do these days for their kids… but we generally could have a couple of friends over for cake and ice cream. And games. There were always games.
I also remember that Mom was a great seamstress. One year, I had a “Barbie” themed birthday party. She painstakingly patterned and sewed adorable Barbie doll outfits for all of my friends’ Barbies. Each outfit was unique. I had over 10 girls at my party that year – I shudder to think about the amount of work she put into it.
My Mom was a rock star.
Every year, we took my Mom out for dinner for her birthday. It was usually to a seafood restaurant of some sort because she loved fish so much. Ugh.
Invariably, I mortally embarrassed the entire family by asking the waitress if they served grilled cheese sandwiches or hamburgers. This was before restaurants had the good sense to offer children’s menus. Hey, as a kid, I hated seafood, what can I say?
If looks could kill – I would be dead a thousand times over.
As an adult, I can now eat halibut, orange roughy, mahi mahi, tilapia, swordfish, grilled albacore and other non-shellfish, non-fishy tasting fish without even a grimace. My Mom would be so proud.
On our birthdays, Mom would make us our favorite dinner – we could choose anything – as long as it included a vegetable.
I suspect I was the reason the vegetable rule was instituted. And no, a baked potato is NOT considered to be a vegetable. I know because I checked the rulebook.
She also baked us our favorite cake. Mine was usually chocolate and yellow marbled cake with chocolate icing. I love marbled everything… marbled cake, marbled paper, the marbled top on my antique dresser, and marbled pens, etc.
I even have a faint recollection of playing with marbles when I was very, very young – though I quickly lost most of mine…
I mean I lost THE marbles, not MY marbles… though there might be some disagreement about that… lol.
It frustrates me that I don’t remember what my Mom’s favorite cake was – It could have been strawberry shortcake – but don’t quote me on that. She liked lemon bars – but that doesn’t count, does it? Bars are not cake. It might have been carrot cake. My Mom loved vegetables.
Dad’s favorite was angel food cake… Bro’s is German chocolate cake. What the heck was Mom’s? I hate that my mind is a sieve.
On her last birthday, my good friend Scott barbecued a turkey for her. Mom and I share a deep love for turkey. Or was that for her last Mother’s Day? Or maybe we were celebrating both? Some years they were even the same day. Wow… I can’t remember. My brain is a sieve, I tell ya…
I was 24 when she died – it’s the same age she was when her Mom died. I know that was part of the reason why the dying process was especially hard on her – she knew firsthand what her daughter and son soon would be facing.
May 7th marks the start of the time of year I hate the most… Within a month and a half we have my Mom’s birthday, Mother’s Day, my Dad’s birthday, the anniversary of her death, and Father’s Day. The anniversary of my Dad’s death is just a month later, too. Fun times.
This year, I wasn’t planning to post anything – but I was obsessed with the concept that I had forgotten my Mom’s favorite cake. Hulk sad.
Honestly, (and obviously) I haven’t written much in the last 2-3 months. I’ve been in a funk.
Life is so overwhelming at times that I can barely breathe – much less write.
But I say, “F*ck the Funk!” lol… As I write this I realize I should probably trademark it… lol. My Mom would NOT like me to cuss… but there’s just no better word I can think of at the moment.
Another reason for my lack of posts, is because the shows I generally write about have been disappointing. Over the weeks, I started to write several posts but then I quickly lost interest half way through.
Why should I put more effort into writing a quality post about a dull, frustrating reality show than the effort they put into making the show itself?
However, a couple of days ago, I set the goal to write every single day. It may be in the form of creating a post that will be published on this site, working on my book, writing short stories, journaling, etc. It just has to be SOMETHING.
It has become clear to me that I must write if I want to be a writer. Who knew? Lol…
So – to that end – I’m working on a post, well a couple of them, really. Hopefully, I will complete and post them in the next couple of days. I just didn’t want to post about the Real Housewives of New York on my Mom’s birthday. It just seemed wonky to me.
At first, I just created the meme I posted on social media… but then I decided at that last minute to write this quick post as a remembrance to my Mom.
So if any of you are still out there… I appreciate you checking in even while I was checked out for a while.
By the way…
I really DO believe there’s birthday cake in heaven…
And balloons that never pop.