Misty birthday-colored memories

Tomorrow's my birthday. I had a couple of work pals surprise me and take me out for a birthday lunch, and that was nice. It got me thinking about some of the best birthday memories I have:

• One, of course, was being born, but I'm a little hazy on that. I know there was a bright light and lots of noise, and I got smacked around a little bit, but it ended well. I got a pink blanket out of it.
• There were plenty of parties with annoying kids who pinched me, busted the pinata before I got a turn, and made fun of my lop-sided, microwaved chocolate cakes. That wasn't so great.
• I got a Sweet 16 party, and my parents invited the boy I'd had a huge crush on for three years -- to his credit, he was nice enough to attend, but I'm sure inside he was cringing.
• When we lived in Washington, our circle of friends threw some great and creative parties for birthdays. One involved a hair-ball puppet; another centered around a handwritten story featuring Star Trek characters and an Organic Life Form (OLF). Those were the salad days.

Saw my favorite sister yesterday. She and her husband were on their way back to Colorado. They stopped in to say hello and wish me a happy birthday. "The older you get, the less of a big deal it is," she said, handing me a card my parents had asked her to deliver. (They live in town, and refuse to mail anything to me -- why waste a perfectly good stamp? If my sis hadn't brought the card over, I'd have had to pick it up myself.)

I agree with her on some level. I don't want expensive gifts. I don't even want cards, but I get a secret pleasure out of ecards, emails, and phone calls. I like it when people do stuff like that. It makes me feel a little special. It's nice.

One of the best gifts I ever got came out of the blue a couple of years ago. One of my co-workers had recently retired. She called me on her cell phone from the beach and let me listen to the breaking waves, knowing how much I loved the ocean. I will never forget that. One of these days, maybe I'll spend my birthday at a real ocean. Or, if global warming really kicks in, my little Oklahoma house might be situated on beachfront property.

Awesome!

Birthday flight

This was not the way the day was supposed to end, with LegoGuy’s head on the table, crying silently into the crook of his elbow. I had rushed to the store after yoga class to pick up a cake mix, and after dinner I’d whipped up a chocolate cake with homemade Hershey’s chocolate icing. Somehow, I’d ended up hurting the feelings of my 14-year-old son.

“I just poked him with a clothespin,” I said to SO, slightly stunned.

“You pinched him.”

“I pinned it on the seam of his shirt.”

“Obviously you caught skin, not shirt.”

“Oh, come on,” I said lightly, poking Lego with the clothespin one more time, thinking he was joking around with us. But he really was upset. Truth is, we were all on each other’s nerves last night and it didn’t take much to send one of us over the edge. Unfortunately, it ended up being the birthday boy.

Trying to make amends, I reached back into my memory for a miserable birthday story. "When I turned 8, I was chased up the top of a swing set because all the kids were pinching me so much. I was covered in bruises from head to toe."

Unimpressed, there was no response from LegoGuy.

Well, at least he enjoyed his birthday present. His obessession with the sky is still in full swing, and we arranged for him to take a Discovery Flight. He, along with a certified instructor (CI), flew a Cessna around the area for about an hour. I left him in CI's capable hands, and headed for my van. I wasn't able to leave, camping out in my van until I saw the two of them take off safely. I was aware that SO was at work, worrying a hole into the lining of his stomach, so I had to make sure there weren't any snags. What I didn't realize was my son was the one in the pilot seat. CI was sitting behind him, co-piloting. LegoGuy was the one in charge when they left the runway. His euphoria was evident when I picked him up at the end of the lesson.

"I told him I'd had some experience with a flight simulator, but it's nothing like the real thing!" LegoGuy told me. "He said I did pretty good on the take-off. Landing was a lot more difficult." Thankfully, CI had brought the plane down without incident.

"How come I never get an airplane ride for my birthday?" asked Sport, jealous.

"Hey, you got a football signed by the entire OU team! You've never even expressed an interest in flying."

LegoGuy laughed, his smile lighting up his entire face.

Each year, I find it more and more difficult to believe that this is the same kid we brought home from the hospital in 1993, both of us feeling shellshocked by our sudden change in status from couple to threesome. Kids really don't come with any kind of instruction manual. We did a lot of things wrong those first few months, but I think we've done a whole lot of things right over the years.

I'd taken LegoGuy's baby book out so we could look at it together, but after the pinching debacle, I went from Mother of the Year to Mommy Dearest. He went to his room and I went to bed, depressed and embarrassed.

This morning, I apologized and he forgave me. There's nothing like a hug from Mom and a big piece of cake lathered with homemade Hershey's chocolate icing to make everything right with the world.