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Birthday celebrations are due just deserts
(by Christine Thome - March 04, 2009)
BEYOND MY CONTROL, BY CHRISTINE THOME
Birthday celebrations are due just deserts
Today is my daughter's 17th birthday. She thinks I should throw her a birthday party, but, after very careful consideration, I've come to the conclusion that she should be the one throwing me a party.
"Why should I throw you a party -- it's my birthday?" she questioned.
"Yes, it is your birthday, but, as Bill Cosby said, 'I brought you into this world, and I can take you out.'" I said. "I think you need to show a little more appreciation for the person responsible for your creation."
"I thought God created me," she said.
"Well, God did create you, and, believe me, he and I still need to have a conversation, because you were a very colicky baby, and your drama-queen attitude still drives me crazy, but that's exactly the reason why you should be celebrating me instead of the other way around," I replied.
"I don't get it," she commented.
"You see, for 17 years I have fed you, clothed you and loved you. During those 17 years, I have tried to mold you into a responsible, caring young adult. I have enrolled you in dance classes ..."
"You forced me to do those dance classes, and I hated them!" she interrupted.
"I tried to teach you how to take responsibility for your actions ..."
"You made me clean up the dog poop in the pouring rain, and I wasn't even the one who started the fight. Jack hit me first!" she interrupted again.
"And I have cared for you when you were sick," I finished.
"You gave me a blanket and a bucket and told me to go back to bed, because you couldn't deal with one more kid throwing up," she cried.
"All four of you had the flu at the same time," I reminded her. "The washing machine was full, we were out of sheets, and I hadn't slept in 36 hours. You were the oldest, and I thought you had enough skill to actually make it into the bucket."
"I was 8," she sneered.
"Then take it as a compliment that I had so much faith in you at such a young age!" I yelled back. "You're still alive and well, aren't you?"
"Well, yes," she said.
"And that is the reason why you should be throwing me a party on your birthday instead of the other way around," I said.
"I should throw you a party because I'm still alive?" she exclaimed.
"Exactly. I love you dearly, and I am so proud of all the incredible things you have accomplished, but there have been moments when you and your siblings have made me understand why some animals eat their young. You're lucky I haven't made an all-you-can-eat buffet out of the four of you."
"Well, your birthday is coming up soon. Are you going to celebrate it by throwing Nonee a party?" my daughter asked me, referring to her grandmother and my mother.
Touche. She had me.
So I called my mother and asked her if she thought we should celebrate her on my birthday instead of the other way around. I was sure she was going to say, "Don't be silly. Your birthday is your special day and should be celebrated because of your miraculous birth. I cherish the ground you walk on."
But she didn't.
"That's not a bad idea," she said thoughtfully. "After all, I fed you, loved you and clothed you for all those years, not to mention the fortune your father I spent on years of dance classes ..."
"Which I loved and appreciated so much, Mom, unlike my own daughters," I interrupted.
"You are a productive member of society, you have a lovely family, and so far you have not asked to move back home with your four children, two dogs and a cat," she said.
She was on a roll, and I could hear the excitement in her voice as she kept going. "Damn! I am a good mother," she continued. "You're right. Let's celebrate me this year instead of you!"
Balloons and a cake are on their way, Mom.
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