This is not a rhetorical question. Well, sort of. But I do want to know, and since everyone seems to have their own personal definition of "family" that works for them, I don't really even know if there IS an answer to this question. There are political answers, politically incorrect answers, DNA answers, ancestral answers, adoptive answers, dictionary answers, and on and on and on. I totally get that everyone is going to have their own working definition of what makes a family and what doesn't "count" as family. And this is by NO means an attempt at making ANY sort of political or social commentary on any issues related to family in the legal stratosphere. I am NOT trying to get involved in any public awareness-type issue here, at all! This is merely me, attempting to put into perspective, a question that has come up in my world recently and which has been on my mind ever since. And what it really boils down to is the hypocrisy I see in people's changing definition of "family" depending on the circumstances, and on how their current active definition can benefit them in any given moment.
When people ask me if I come from a large family, I always say yes. I grew up with only 1 older sister, so this may confound those who have a fairly narrow definition of the word. But when I am asked about my family, I don't just think about her and my parents. I think about all my aunts and uncles, my cousins, their spouses, their children, and in some cases, members of their spouse's family. Hell, sometimes I even find myself referring to my uncle's ex-wife as "Aunt So-And-So". Even though So-And-So isn't really her name. In real life I use her name. But I won't do that here. Because she escaped the cray-cray that is our family and might want to keep her name clean from here on out. But I digress...
Here is where my definition might diverge from a more traditional approach, though. I looked it up, and there were like 12 different definitions of this word. TWELVE! No wonder our country can't seem to figure out how to define the word when it comes to public policy - there are 12 friggin' different ways to define it depending on if you are doing so figuratively, legally, literally, socially, scientifically, mathematically, biologically, chemically, emotionally, psychologically, linguistically, or politically. This is why I think its important to be open-minded about everyone's personal definition of family. Because as you can see, there really isn't only one right answer.
Some definitions are very limited and narrow, like "one's wife or husband and one's children". I think most of us would agree that this simple definition doesn't really encompass all those we might consider to be family. Therefore, a more accurate definition might be "a group of persons related by blood" or "a group of persons sharing common ancestry". Yeah, this sounds more like it. But then what about my little sister? She was adopted and doesn't share a drop of DNA with me or a single ancestor, but God help the person who tries to tell me she isn't my family! Or my cousin who was adopted, and his children? He and his kids are as much a part of MY family to me as anyone who shares DNA with me. In fact, I even used to say that he is the one person in my family I actually wouldn't mind being related to and share DNA with, and that it's ironic he is the one who is adopted and doesn't share DNA with me at all! Sad but true. Again, I digress...
One of the definitions I found says family is "all the persons living together in one household". Well, then I guess there are some friends of mine who are now officially family, since they lived with my mom for a while during college when they needed a place to stay. And my cousin's ex-boyfriend must now also be family, since he lived with my mom too, when he and my cousin needed a roof over their heads. Then there are all of the additional definitions...I won't go into them, the scientific definitions of family involving chemistry, math, or biology and genus, species, etc because quite frankly, I'd just embarrass myself (more than I usually do) trying to make sense of something that actually makes no sense to me at all. Suffice it to say, there are other scientific definitions of "family" out there that don't really apply to the intent and purpose of this blog today. Whew. Dodged that bullet.
I also know there are people out there who view their pets as "family". And I'm not talking about the whack-a-dos out there who chew their pet's food for them and and then feed them like baby birds, or who dress their dogs up in children's clothes and have them eating dinner ON the table at meal times off the fine china. I'm talking about the regular, average, every day pet owner who falls in love with their pet and dedicates a sizable amount of time, energy, money, love, and devotion to this animal, just as they would a child. Before I was married and had children, I used to refer to my dog Bebe as my mother's "grand-dog". It used to drive her nuts, which lets be honest was the REAL reason I did it, but I also meant it, because at the time, she was the creature I was responsible for, that I took care of, that I tended to day in and day out, and whose needs (having to be taken out on a leash to use the bathroom before I can go to work in the morning, even though it is pouring down rain) were put ahead of my own (having to get to work on time in professional work attire and to not look like a drowned rat at my morning meeting with the principal and parents), in much the same way the needs of a child (to throw up 3.5 of the 4 oz just ingested and do so on your work clothes exactly 2.7 seconds before you HAVE to leave the house) are put ahead of a my own (to show up at work JUST ONCE not smelling like baby vomit and in an outfit that doesn't look like a homemade baby-puke version of camo). And the day my family lost Bebe was a day we all mourned and grieved, as we learned how to make it through the average day with an empty space in our lives and our hearts that used to be filled by her.
So family can mean blood and DNA, it can mean living together, it can include adoptions, and even pets. And technically, none of them could be considered wrong. Usually, I am pretty open minded and non-judgemental about how another person might define the word "family". However, recently I have encountered a very different application of the word "family" and I must admit, I was somewhat taken aback by it. Not by the way it was defined, or the context in which it was used, but in the gross inconsistencies with which it was applied to multiple different circumstances. How its very definition seemed to change in the course of a single conversation to mean very different things in order to serve an individual's specific purposes in each of those different circumstances. This is where my mind tends to close down. This is where my hackles rise, my tolerance for double standards becomes nonexistent, and where I find it very, very, VERY difficult to bite my tongue.
If you want to define family as "only those related by blood", then I kinda think you have to accept, therefore, that one would NOT have "family privileges" with one's in-laws, whether it be brother/sister-in-law, father/mother-in-law, or son/daughter-in-law. And by "family privileges" I mean any situation in which attendance or decision-making might be limited to "family only". Or for example, if one daughter-in-law isn't "family" because she's not blood, wouldn't that mean another daughter-in-law isn't "family" either, since she's not related by blood? Because if the 2nd daughter-in-law IS in fact family, then she would have to be related by blood, and that would mean the entire family just moved to Arkansas. Which didn't happen. So by the logic I learned in my college Philosophy class, she can NOT, therefore, be "family" either. And if information should only be dispersed within the family to those who are related by blood, one would therefore NOT be entitled to information as it concerns those who are only connected to the family by marriage, and who are not, in fact, blood relatives. Would they? No, they wouldn't.
I'm not really sure what my point here is today (surprise, surprise!) but I know that there are people in this world who don't share a drop of DNA with me, but who have loved me more truly, more faithfully, more loyally, and more unconditionally than some with whom I do share genetics. And I have watched people I love being treated in the most un-family-like manner by people who share DNA with them, and in the most kind, loving, and accepting manner by people who do not. I have watched people treat each other in despicable ways, all in the name of "family". And I think the greatest thing I have gained from these experiences is that blood doesn't make family. Love does. Blood and DNA in the absence of love is merely science. But love in the absence of blood and DNA is still love, and since love is what everyone should be building their families on, I say THAT is family. Take that, genetics.
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Proof that I have an "inner monologue"
I'm going to make an audio recording of myself on my phone, saying nothing but "No (brief pause) because its a bad idea." I'm going to keep it cued up and on hand 24/7 and from now on, I'm just going to play it every time one of my children comes to me with another one of their poorly thought-out ideas/requests/questions, many of which they already know the damn answer to before they even come to me! I have come to the conclusion that this plan is the only way for me to survive through their teen years without completely wearing a hole the size of the Grand Canyon through my vocal cords from the number of times I repeat myself.
And its not just the word "No" that gets repeated. I have to repeat the exact same reason for the answer "No" that they received the last time they wanted to do something ridiculously asinine. And despite the fact that I won't let one of them do it, for some inane reason, the other one will be shocked and amazed that I would be upset at finding them attempting the very thing the other one wasn't allowed to do! How is it that they can get awesome grades in school and get on the honor roll every quarter, but truly and honestly believe that me telling one of them to get off the roof wouldn't automatically apply to BOTH of them? Seriously, people. I'm loosing my ever-loving mind. Because the reasons haven't changed. If it was a bad idea yesterday, chances are its a bad idea today.
There are lots of things I'm sick and tired of saying "No" to repeatedly. And its getting difficult. Its getting even more difficult to say "No" without launching into a caustic, sarcasm-laden rant about the complete lack of common sense that must be overflowing in order for them to even THINK about coming and presenting this issue to me yet again. Those that know me may truly be surprised to learn that it hasn't happened yet. At least not in the purest form that I have previously shown myself to be capable of. I have been known, however, to look at one of the dudes and ask "Are you serious right now? I want you to step into the other room, and seriously THINK about whether or not you want to ask me this, and see if you can possibly predict what the outcome will be if you do, in fact, decide to ask me this." Sometimes, this is enough of a CLUE for him to rethink his request. Sadly, sometimes it is not. And this is where I have been able to demonstrate that I do, in fact, have an inner monologue. I am capable of thinking something and not saying it word for ever-loving word, no matter how badly I may want to. I have compiled a few examples as proof for those of you who may doubt me. I know who you are.
1. Mom, can I wear shorts to school? "No" But whyyyyyyyyyyyy? "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: No. No, no, no, no, NO! You did not just effing ask me that question! Pop quiz - what month is it?! That's right its f@#&ing January, dip shit! Bonus question - what temperature does the thermometer say it is outside?! I'll help you with that one, since there is so much god damn FROST on the window that it makes reading the god damn thermometer difficult. It says 12 degrees. TWELVE. Not even in f@#&ing Alaska is 12 degrees considered "balmy" enough to wear shorts. We have been over this question before and the answer has NOT changed. Guess what, Einstein? It ain't gonna change, either. So, do NOT ask me to wear shorts to school until May. Period. If you do, we will be heating the house during this lovely 12 degree weather with a fire in the fireplace courtesy of every god damn pair of shorts you own. Are we on the same page now?
2. Mom, can I change the channel to Gator-Swamp-Catcher-Hand-Fisher-Moonshiner-Chainsawing-Dirty-Dangerous-Logging-Fisherman-Redneck-Hillbilly Reality Show? "No" But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: Why? Because you aren't the only member of the freakin' family, you selfish little crumpet! There are 5 of us - FIVE. And, as surprising as it may seem, not all of us what to watch a show about some people who live in a swamp and have no teeth. (No disrespect to people who have no teeth, there are several in my own family so you can understand how I would have no need to watch a show about them. To those who live in swamps, more power to you.) If you are sooooooooo devastated about having to watch a show that is appealing to someone other than yourself, here's a novel idea - you don't have to watch the effing TV at all! Go play with one of the shit-tons of items you so desperately needed to have for your birthday or Christmas! How about that? Now, give me the god damn remote, Dance Moms is on.
3. Mom, Little Dude/Big Dude and I want to make up a game where... "No" But whyyyyyyyyyyy? I didn't even get to tell you what it is! "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: You think I was born yesterday?? This ain't my first rodeo, son. I must be the only one who sees the irony of this moment - you've had soooo many blows to the head and injuries from all the previous bad-idea-games you two have concocted that you don't remember that doing that sort of shit is a friggin' bad effing idea!! Any time you come to me to explain to me a new "game" you want to create, it inevitably ends with someone bruised, bloody, bandaged, or needing a trip to the nearest urgent care clinic or ER. I'm not f@#&ing going to the ER today. NOT. So, NO. You may not do whatever whacked out, crack pot idea is churning up in that little knucklehead of yours. Go read a god damn book or something.
4. Mom, I want a fish/hermit crab/gerbil/guinea pig/2nd dog/..."No" But whyyyyyyyyyyy? "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: Come here. Follow me. I'd like to introduce you to someone. Dude, this is Abby. Abby, this is Little/Big Dude. She is your dog. The pet you already have. You remember, right? The one you piss and moan about having to brush several times a week? The one you fight and argue about whose turn it is to complete the physically draining task of filling her food and water bowls once a day? You know, the one whose shit is all over the yard for you to step in and track into my house when you are playing football in the backyard with your friends, because you just can't seem to find the time to use the f@#&ing pooper scooper a few times a week? The one who its too torturous to walk around the block once in a while? Yeah, the one you wanted and promised you would help take care of and do so much of the work that I wouldn't even know we had a pet? That one. Ring a bell? Yeah. So technically, you already have a pet. And its like pulling teeth with a f@#&ing spoon getting you to take responsibility for her. So no, you may not get another pet. Suck it.
This really is only the tip of the "repetitive No answer to the repetitive questions asked" iceberg, but I feel I've proven my point. I do have an inner monologue. And from time to time, I even use it.
And its not just the word "No" that gets repeated. I have to repeat the exact same reason for the answer "No" that they received the last time they wanted to do something ridiculously asinine. And despite the fact that I won't let one of them do it, for some inane reason, the other one will be shocked and amazed that I would be upset at finding them attempting the very thing the other one wasn't allowed to do! How is it that they can get awesome grades in school and get on the honor roll every quarter, but truly and honestly believe that me telling one of them to get off the roof wouldn't automatically apply to BOTH of them? Seriously, people. I'm loosing my ever-loving mind. Because the reasons haven't changed. If it was a bad idea yesterday, chances are its a bad idea today.
There are lots of things I'm sick and tired of saying "No" to repeatedly. And its getting difficult. Its getting even more difficult to say "No" without launching into a caustic, sarcasm-laden rant about the complete lack of common sense that must be overflowing in order for them to even THINK about coming and presenting this issue to me yet again. Those that know me may truly be surprised to learn that it hasn't happened yet. At least not in the purest form that I have previously shown myself to be capable of. I have been known, however, to look at one of the dudes and ask "Are you serious right now? I want you to step into the other room, and seriously THINK about whether or not you want to ask me this, and see if you can possibly predict what the outcome will be if you do, in fact, decide to ask me this." Sometimes, this is enough of a CLUE for him to rethink his request. Sadly, sometimes it is not. And this is where I have been able to demonstrate that I do, in fact, have an inner monologue. I am capable of thinking something and not saying it word for ever-loving word, no matter how badly I may want to. I have compiled a few examples as proof for those of you who may doubt me. I know who you are.
1. Mom, can I wear shorts to school? "No" But whyyyyyyyyyyyy? "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: No. No, no, no, no, NO! You did not just effing ask me that question! Pop quiz - what month is it?! That's right its f@#&ing January, dip shit! Bonus question - what temperature does the thermometer say it is outside?! I'll help you with that one, since there is so much god damn FROST on the window that it makes reading the god damn thermometer difficult. It says 12 degrees. TWELVE. Not even in f@#&ing Alaska is 12 degrees considered "balmy" enough to wear shorts. We have been over this question before and the answer has NOT changed. Guess what, Einstein? It ain't gonna change, either. So, do NOT ask me to wear shorts to school until May. Period. If you do, we will be heating the house during this lovely 12 degree weather with a fire in the fireplace courtesy of every god damn pair of shorts you own. Are we on the same page now?
2. Mom, can I change the channel to Gator-Swamp-Catcher-Hand-Fisher-Moonshiner-Chainsawing-Dirty-Dangerous-Logging-Fisherman-Redneck-Hillbilly Reality Show? "No" But whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: Why? Because you aren't the only member of the freakin' family, you selfish little crumpet! There are 5 of us - FIVE. And, as surprising as it may seem, not all of us what to watch a show about some people who live in a swamp and have no teeth. (No disrespect to people who have no teeth, there are several in my own family so you can understand how I would have no need to watch a show about them. To those who live in swamps, more power to you.) If you are sooooooooo devastated about having to watch a show that is appealing to someone other than yourself, here's a novel idea - you don't have to watch the effing TV at all! Go play with one of the shit-tons of items you so desperately needed to have for your birthday or Christmas! How about that? Now, give me the god damn remote, Dance Moms is on.
3. Mom, Little Dude/Big Dude and I want to make up a game where... "No" But whyyyyyyyyyyy? I didn't even get to tell you what it is! "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: You think I was born yesterday?? This ain't my first rodeo, son. I must be the only one who sees the irony of this moment - you've had soooo many blows to the head and injuries from all the previous bad-idea-games you two have concocted that you don't remember that doing that sort of shit is a friggin' bad effing idea!! Any time you come to me to explain to me a new "game" you want to create, it inevitably ends with someone bruised, bloody, bandaged, or needing a trip to the nearest urgent care clinic or ER. I'm not f@#&ing going to the ER today. NOT. So, NO. You may not do whatever whacked out, crack pot idea is churning up in that little knucklehead of yours. Go read a god damn book or something.
4. Mom, I want a fish/hermit crab/gerbil/guinea pig/2nd dog/..."No" But whyyyyyyyyyyy? "Because its a bad idea"
My inner monologue: Come here. Follow me. I'd like to introduce you to someone. Dude, this is Abby. Abby, this is Little/Big Dude. She is your dog. The pet you already have. You remember, right? The one you piss and moan about having to brush several times a week? The one you fight and argue about whose turn it is to complete the physically draining task of filling her food and water bowls once a day? You know, the one whose shit is all over the yard for you to step in and track into my house when you are playing football in the backyard with your friends, because you just can't seem to find the time to use the f@#&ing pooper scooper a few times a week? The one who its too torturous to walk around the block once in a while? Yeah, the one you wanted and promised you would help take care of and do so much of the work that I wouldn't even know we had a pet? That one. Ring a bell? Yeah. So technically, you already have a pet. And its like pulling teeth with a f@#&ing spoon getting you to take responsibility for her. So no, you may not get another pet. Suck it.
This really is only the tip of the "repetitive No answer to the repetitive questions asked" iceberg, but I feel I've proven my point. I do have an inner monologue. And from time to time, I even use it.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
A Birthday Addendum
Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa. I beg forgiveness. I must set the record straight and clear my husband's good name. In my last post, I mentioned my most recent birthday experience. While I do stand by what I wrote, I must provide an addendum to that post based on recent events in the last 24 hours at my house.
Last night while we were sitting around as a family watching the football games, I was surprised by my husband with a chocolate cake and ice cream, and a family rendition of Happy Birthday. It was a wonderful surprise. So for the record, I will no longer refer to my 7 hour car trip gas station cookies as my birthday celebration for this year. No, this year it was sitting around with my wonderful family watching NFL football playoffs and as a family, polishing off the entire cake AND a whole half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Not caring that the kids were eating too much junk, or that it was too close to bedtime to be eating desserts, or that the sugar high was going to be delaying bedtimes by a ridiculously annoying length of time. Just enjoying each other and the sharing the joy of eating a whole cake together. It was such a wonderful feeling to know that we were all enjoying our time together. I have a wonderful family, and a wonderful husband, and I am so lucky to have them. We aren't perfect. Not as individuals or as a unit, and I don't think that we are an exception. So in the spirit of full disclosure, I now consider last night to be my "birthday" this year and for the record, it was all I wanted it to be. I love my family.
Bonus information learned last night: Someone reads this blog. Even if it is just my husband, and it made him feel bad and it got me a birthday re-do. I now have the reassurance that at least one other person is reading what I write here. Thanks, honey!
Last night while we were sitting around as a family watching the football games, I was surprised by my husband with a chocolate cake and ice cream, and a family rendition of Happy Birthday. It was a wonderful surprise. So for the record, I will no longer refer to my 7 hour car trip gas station cookies as my birthday celebration for this year. No, this year it was sitting around with my wonderful family watching NFL football playoffs and as a family, polishing off the entire cake AND a whole half-gallon of mint chocolate chip ice cream. Not caring that the kids were eating too much junk, or that it was too close to bedtime to be eating desserts, or that the sugar high was going to be delaying bedtimes by a ridiculously annoying length of time. Just enjoying each other and the sharing the joy of eating a whole cake together. It was such a wonderful feeling to know that we were all enjoying our time together. I have a wonderful family, and a wonderful husband, and I am so lucky to have them. We aren't perfect. Not as individuals or as a unit, and I don't think that we are an exception. So in the spirit of full disclosure, I now consider last night to be my "birthday" this year and for the record, it was all I wanted it to be. I love my family.
Bonus information learned last night: Someone reads this blog. Even if it is just my husband, and it made him feel bad and it got me a birthday re-do. I now have the reassurance that at least one other person is reading what I write here. Thanks, honey!
Thursday, January 10, 2013
Is Mom's Birthday Really a Birthday?
Really? Seriously? Like, for real????? Come on, people! It's not that difficult! The date hasn't changed since last year, or the year before, or the year before, or the year before... In fact, its been the same date for 42 - er, I mean 35 years. I KNOW it wasn't a surprise cuz I have made a point of mentioning it several times over the last month. And yet somehow, my birthday seems to catch everyone off guard. I know I am not the only mom out there who consistently bends over backwards to make sure everyone's birthday is special and fun. Even for those who insist that "my birthday isn't a big deal so you and the kids don't need to worry about it", a cake is made and Happy Birthday is sung and homemade cards are passed out (because the one year I was out of town on his birthday, and didn't get to talk to him, I got a guilt trip layed on me. And here I thought birthdays weren't a big deal so I didn't need to worry about it...). So why is it that I spent my birthday this year stuck in a car for 7 hours with 3 kids and a dog, eating generic gas-station brand oreos and chocolate chip cookies? That, my friends, is a very good question.
To me, as I get older, it truly is about the thought that counts. This year, my mom thought about me with a card and a check, and my extended family thought about me when they all agreed to go out to dinner with us. Those are wonderful thoughts by people for whom I put forth an equal amount of thought on their birthdays - flowers, edible arrangement, card, etc. So I don't want or don't need more stuff, but everyone wants and needs more love, and to feel special, and appreciated in an above-and-beyond-the-average, "Its your birthday, party like a rock star!" kinda way. One year for me, it was breakfast in bed - my day was made, nothing more was needed, I was feeling the love. Another year, it was a letter from my son's school (folded up and stuck inside his homemade card) saying he had made it into his school's gifted program - cue the water works and proud mommy moment right there cuz that was all I could have asked for. So, you see? I'm not greedy or overly needy on my birthday.
And not to toot my own horn, but I don't think any of my kids have had a birthday without at least one cake. With dad's unpredictable military duties, sometimes we did a family birthday with small cake separate from the kid-crazy fiasco that has its own cake to share with hoards of neighborhood children who need a jacked up sugar high like I need more gray hair. Sometimes its a homemade cake of the size, shape, and flavor requested by the birthday kid. I don't do fancy, character shapes or anything that really requires any degree of talent, mind you. When I say size and shape, I really mean, 1 tier or 2 tier, circle, square or rectangle, or bundt. So I give options and choices, as all good parenting magazines recommend, but I don't give ones that will ultimately result in my epic failure to accurately capture their personal birthday vision and thus require years of therapy to get over how "my mom totally ruined my birthdays with grotesque, misshapen cakes which totally humiliated me and that my friends mocked for years after they stopped coming to my birthday parties altogether". Either way, I'm making the damn cake. Or buying a cake, which is requested almost as often.
And who doesn't love a homemade card? Every year, I sit down with my kids and have them make homemade cards for each other and for their dad's birthday, which they give him after we sing happy birthday over his homemade cake. It takes no time from me whatsoever to have them take a piece of white paper and a bucket of markers and make dad a card. Whatever they draw is perfect and gets folded up into an envelope. Cuz its not about a finished product, its about the thought and love behind it.
I also know that baking is not a forte for anyone in my family. So, not only do I not expect a homemade cake on my birthday, I am ok with not getting one. The simple reason for this is that I don't want extra work on my birthday. I don't want to do any work on my birthday, actually, but since THAT has as much chance of happening as my dog miraculously ceasing her shedding, I set my hopes and dreams to "realistic" and try to avoid the extra. Cuz guess who would end up cleaning up the kitchen after an attempt at making me a homemade birthday cake, anyway? Yup, me. Wanna know how I know this? Because the only time an attempt was made at making me a homemade cake, I was in the kitchen cleaning up from it, even after I was informed "And we even cleaned everything up!". How does one get flour on the underside of the kitchen cabinets? Just curious. This is why I have always made my own birthday cake. Imagine the years of therapy required if I made my kids make their own birthday cakes..."Nope. Sorry. I don't have the time. If you want a cake, you're gonna have to make it yourself." And yet, its perfectly normal for mom to make her own. I have learned that when I don't make my own, I don't get one. I tested this theory once the year before the "we'll make you one and clean up ourselves" fiasco. No cake that year. When the husband and kids asked about it, I very pointedly said, "Well, you guys don't make your own birthday cakes, so who made me mine?" Crickets. Literally, crickets.
So you see, I'm not picky. And once we all had piled into our mini-van on my actual birthday, to begin the 7 hour drive home from our holiday visit, it became apparent to me that I wasn't getting a cake or cards. And for the first 4 hours of the ride, I was totally ok with that. It didn't bother me, wasn't on my mind, I wasn't sighing in a martyr-like fashion waiting for my husband to ask what was wrong so I could tell him how hurt I was - because I truly wasn't. It was fine. Until we stopped for our dinner break. Which was a drive-thru McDonalds and a gas fill up. Once everyone was all potty-ed up, I decided to splurge on a special treat and get some cookies to share in the car. Not something we usually do but something fun as a surprise. My husband passes me as I am on the way to the check out and asks me what I'm getting. When I tell him, he rolls his eyes and gives me his look. The one that says "Really? The kids totally don't need that crap."
That was when it hit me. This is my birthday. I'm not getting a cake. No one gave me a card. I've been in a car for 4 hours with another 3 to go. And you are giving me a hard time because I want to buy cookies?!? Not even BRAND name cookies - but generic gas-station brand cookies?!? That was when I informed him that since no one had provided a cake or any sort of "treat surprise" for my birthday, I was NOT going to feel guilty for buying cheap, gas station cookies to share with my kids on my birthday. NOT. HAPPENING. Once we were all back in the car, I reminded them all that we only do treats like cake and ice cream on birthdays, so if they were at all interested in having a 5th day each year when that happened, ONE of them might want to take the initiative to make happen on MY birthday from now on, because I was no longer going to be making cake on my birthday for anyone but me. If they have to make their own cakes on their birthdays, they can decide who to share them with. So the next birthday cake I make for myself will be eaten in its entirety by me.
Its not even so much about the cake. I'm not that huge a fan of cake. Stick a candle in a bag of chips with a side of Oreos, however, and I'm aaaaaaaall over it!! I just want them to understand how important it is to be on both sides of the "its the thought that counts" equation. They feel great when someone goes out of their way to make them feel special, so I want them to know its important to go out of their way to make others feel special too. I totally get that they are kids and need an adult to step in here and lead them down this road. Which I think I am doing when I have them help make a cake and cards for their dad. I just think I shouldn't be the only one teaching them this lesson and making it important. Did I mention that I was the only one who didn't get a gift from my oldest son this year? Because he didn't have anyone to take him to the store to shop for me. This is why I have gas station cookies in the car for my birthday.
To me, as I get older, it truly is about the thought that counts. This year, my mom thought about me with a card and a check, and my extended family thought about me when they all agreed to go out to dinner with us. Those are wonderful thoughts by people for whom I put forth an equal amount of thought on their birthdays - flowers, edible arrangement, card, etc. So I don't want or don't need more stuff, but everyone wants and needs more love, and to feel special, and appreciated in an above-and-beyond-the-average, "Its your birthday, party like a rock star!" kinda way. One year for me, it was breakfast in bed - my day was made, nothing more was needed, I was feeling the love. Another year, it was a letter from my son's school (folded up and stuck inside his homemade card) saying he had made it into his school's gifted program - cue the water works and proud mommy moment right there cuz that was all I could have asked for. So, you see? I'm not greedy or overly needy on my birthday.
And not to toot my own horn, but I don't think any of my kids have had a birthday without at least one cake. With dad's unpredictable military duties, sometimes we did a family birthday with small cake separate from the kid-crazy fiasco that has its own cake to share with hoards of neighborhood children who need a jacked up sugar high like I need more gray hair. Sometimes its a homemade cake of the size, shape, and flavor requested by the birthday kid. I don't do fancy, character shapes or anything that really requires any degree of talent, mind you. When I say size and shape, I really mean, 1 tier or 2 tier, circle, square or rectangle, or bundt. So I give options and choices, as all good parenting magazines recommend, but I don't give ones that will ultimately result in my epic failure to accurately capture their personal birthday vision and thus require years of therapy to get over how "my mom totally ruined my birthdays with grotesque, misshapen cakes which totally humiliated me and that my friends mocked for years after they stopped coming to my birthday parties altogether". Either way, I'm making the damn cake. Or buying a cake, which is requested almost as often.
And who doesn't love a homemade card? Every year, I sit down with my kids and have them make homemade cards for each other and for their dad's birthday, which they give him after we sing happy birthday over his homemade cake. It takes no time from me whatsoever to have them take a piece of white paper and a bucket of markers and make dad a card. Whatever they draw is perfect and gets folded up into an envelope. Cuz its not about a finished product, its about the thought and love behind it.
I also know that baking is not a forte for anyone in my family. So, not only do I not expect a homemade cake on my birthday, I am ok with not getting one. The simple reason for this is that I don't want extra work on my birthday. I don't want to do any work on my birthday, actually, but since THAT has as much chance of happening as my dog miraculously ceasing her shedding, I set my hopes and dreams to "realistic" and try to avoid the extra. Cuz guess who would end up cleaning up the kitchen after an attempt at making me a homemade birthday cake, anyway? Yup, me. Wanna know how I know this? Because the only time an attempt was made at making me a homemade cake, I was in the kitchen cleaning up from it, even after I was informed "And we even cleaned everything up!". How does one get flour on the underside of the kitchen cabinets? Just curious. This is why I have always made my own birthday cake. Imagine the years of therapy required if I made my kids make their own birthday cakes..."Nope. Sorry. I don't have the time. If you want a cake, you're gonna have to make it yourself." And yet, its perfectly normal for mom to make her own. I have learned that when I don't make my own, I don't get one. I tested this theory once the year before the "we'll make you one and clean up ourselves" fiasco. No cake that year. When the husband and kids asked about it, I very pointedly said, "Well, you guys don't make your own birthday cakes, so who made me mine?" Crickets. Literally, crickets.
So you see, I'm not picky. And once we all had piled into our mini-van on my actual birthday, to begin the 7 hour drive home from our holiday visit, it became apparent to me that I wasn't getting a cake or cards. And for the first 4 hours of the ride, I was totally ok with that. It didn't bother me, wasn't on my mind, I wasn't sighing in a martyr-like fashion waiting for my husband to ask what was wrong so I could tell him how hurt I was - because I truly wasn't. It was fine. Until we stopped for our dinner break. Which was a drive-thru McDonalds and a gas fill up. Once everyone was all potty-ed up, I decided to splurge on a special treat and get some cookies to share in the car. Not something we usually do but something fun as a surprise. My husband passes me as I am on the way to the check out and asks me what I'm getting. When I tell him, he rolls his eyes and gives me his look. The one that says "Really? The kids totally don't need that crap."
That was when it hit me. This is my birthday. I'm not getting a cake. No one gave me a card. I've been in a car for 4 hours with another 3 to go. And you are giving me a hard time because I want to buy cookies?!? Not even BRAND name cookies - but generic gas-station brand cookies?!? That was when I informed him that since no one had provided a cake or any sort of "treat surprise" for my birthday, I was NOT going to feel guilty for buying cheap, gas station cookies to share with my kids on my birthday. NOT. HAPPENING. Once we were all back in the car, I reminded them all that we only do treats like cake and ice cream on birthdays, so if they were at all interested in having a 5th day each year when that happened, ONE of them might want to take the initiative to make happen on MY birthday from now on, because I was no longer going to be making cake on my birthday for anyone but me. If they have to make their own cakes on their birthdays, they can decide who to share them with. So the next birthday cake I make for myself will be eaten in its entirety by me.
Its not even so much about the cake. I'm not that huge a fan of cake. Stick a candle in a bag of chips with a side of Oreos, however, and I'm aaaaaaaall over it!! I just want them to understand how important it is to be on both sides of the "its the thought that counts" equation. They feel great when someone goes out of their way to make them feel special, so I want them to know its important to go out of their way to make others feel special too. I totally get that they are kids and need an adult to step in here and lead them down this road. Which I think I am doing when I have them help make a cake and cards for their dad. I just think I shouldn't be the only one teaching them this lesson and making it important. Did I mention that I was the only one who didn't get a gift from my oldest son this year? Because he didn't have anyone to take him to the store to shop for me. This is why I have gas station cookies in the car for my birthday.
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