Wednesday, June 24, 2009

No Longer a Birthday Princess

Why do mamas always get the short end of the stick when it comes to birthdays? We bust our butts, making sure our offspring have MTV-worthy celebrations, but who is throwing us rock star birthday parties?

My guest blogger, Rose Norton, recently had a birthday. She's taken time to reflect on how we mamas get ripped off when it comes to birthdays. Check out her hilarious blog... I promise you'll laugh!


When we think of birthdays, we think of that magical day when we are the 'special princess‘. It is a day of pampering and love and gifts and smiles and booze and sex. People go out of their way for you just so you can live the day in bliss. The mere mention of your name should send people out for chocolate and perfume.

For one day, you are a goddess. And all you do is sit regally and look down at the nimiety of gifts at your feet. And you’re drunk and sexy. And everything you eat has the calorie content of celery. And kittens purr louder just for you.

For some odd reason, this doesn't happen for me!

I admit this is a little disappointing. Even still, every year I hold fast to the hopes of being gifted a bottomless bucket of love and booze. Instead, there is an overflowing toilet to deal with and play practice and sobriety, thanks to the tandem tantrums the babes are having. The duties override the carnal need for debauchery.

It's mommyhood.

There were times when I didn't have responsibilities on my plate, as I do now, and I had some great birthdays. If we went chronologically, I think I was super happy for the first three birthdays, and from about the age of four through eighteen I was grounded on my special day. I was trouble.

Imagine, if you will, being grounded on your birthday at Disneyland. Yup, it happened.

My two favorite birthdays were my 20th (where I tripped around the Gorge for three days, never sleeping once) and my 23rd (where I finally fell in love with my hometown, as I skinny dipped and walked around naked with 15 dear friends). After that, it sort of went downhill.

At the time of my 24th birthday my then-boyfriend , now husband, gave me a gift. It was the last gift he ever gave me. I came home from work and upon arriving, he asked me to close my eyes and walk outside, down the steps, around a corner (by this time I was thinking if it wasn’t my palomino pony I’ve been wanting for 20 years, I would leave him) and then he said, “Okay! Open your eyes!”

Certain people express disappointment in different ways. Some cry and crumple, some curse the heavens and beat their chest. I took the logical approach.

Me: Interesting. Hmmm. Tell, me have I ever told you how much I like goldfish?

Eric: No

Me: That’s because I don’t, Eric. I don’t like goldfish.

Eric: But I like goldfish! And I like you, so I just assumed you would like them.

Me: I can see how your train of thought would lead you to that conclusion. Permit me to derail it, though.

Eric: But, see! When I put the fountain in it, it’s really cool, huh?

Me: Exactly what possessed you to think of getting me feeder goldfish in a pond that is now taking up the crafting table?

Eric: Well, they were right next to the cake at the store……

I’m going to stop this right here. I don’t think I need to elaborate any further. I went to the refrigerator and took a look at my cake. “Happy rthday ose” is all that I could make out, due to the fact that a slice had already been dislodged.

From there on, birthdays took a turn for the mundane. The mother’s burden is never lifting, regardless of the date. You get the birthday song when you are cleaning up your children after they do their biz-nasty on the john. But rewards are simpler and more worthwhile. The cards I got from the kids were dripping with love and toothpaste (how else would you stick sequins on?).

But virtually, I had a great birthday! Thanks to social networking sites, people sent me birthday love in bundles. I even got a Youtube video of Paul McCartney singing the birthday song. Computers knew it was my birthday. I went to the gym for a birthday-air-conditioned-run and when I swiped my member card, instead of a melodious, “welcome” calling over the speakers, a demonic voice garbled a sinister, “Happy Birthday.” It was like I had the devil himself chanting underwater, which scared the hell out of me, but I was nonetheless touched.

Now I have to pose a question; if you only have a virtual birthday, do you actually age?

I’m 29 this year! I’m officially a grown up! After this birthday, the only thing that’s left is anniversaries of my 29th birthday. I bet I could get at least another fifteen years of my 29th birthday anniversary. Well one can only hope.

So, here’s to us! All mothers that never really had the birthdays of our dreams. May we forever be 29 years old! May our thighs stay skinny, may our children give us foot rubs and feed us dark chocolate and mimosas all day. May hot men fan us and give us stripteases, and may our husbands wash the toilets and feed the dogs.

Viva la mama!

Virtually yours,


Photo by Pink Sherbet Photography


  1. This is utterly delightful! Reminds me of my mom telling me how she anticipated an engagement ring (from my future father) for her birthday. She was *less than elated* to discover a.......can her much anticipated gift. And she still married him. Go figure!
    Thanks so much for sharing :-)

  2. Jasmine Taylor BryantJune 25, 2009 at 3:37 PM

    Love you, love your writing. . .

  3. Whew! I thought it was just my B-day that sucked.

  4. Isn't Rosie fab? I'm so glad you enjoyed her post!

  5. From Terri W., via Facebook:

    "Hmmmm dark chocolate and mimosas....gotta add that to my list for next year's b'day... Love it."

  6. From Rose Norton, via Facebook:

    "Thanks Aunt Terri! I'm going to have to have mimosas soon too!"


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