Birthday Season Is a Happy Time of Hoopla

I just returned from taking John’s birthday treat to school. He is seven years old today.
He had his birthday party last Saturday. We took a group roller skating and had a big time, so today is more of a low key celebration.
When I drove up to school, John was outside for lunch recess. I think he and his friends were getting ready to tease some girls, but when he saw my car he ran over to see me.
He looked so cute with the Happy Birthday sticker from his teacher on his school sweater. I patted him on the head and put my arm around him and asked if he was having a good birthday.
He looked like he was having fun. It made me feel good.
When I drove back home again my mind wandered back to the day he was born. I had a pleasant time reminiscing about that day and how happy we were.
John was a beautiful big baby with not an abundance of hair but an abundance of bright orange color in the hair he did have, and he was born with good health, which he continues to enjoy.
I remember holding him in my arms. I loved doing that. I wondered if after school I could get him to sit on my lap.
I know that Patrick, my oldest, who just had his birthday, can’t sit on my lap any more. Even though he started out as a real big baby I didn’t expect him to grow up so fast, but he did anyway. That is why now I sit on his lap.
This is the birthday season at our house. We have five birthdays in one month’s time. That is a lot of cake and ice cream. Hoopla is involved in all our occasions. So we have been busy planning and giving parties and cleaning up afterwards.
This doesn’t give me much time to think about the actual birth day of the birthday person and how life has changed since. Each birthday of my children is important to the celebrant because it is another step in life’s progression. But to me each child’s birthday is the anniversary of a dramatic change in my life: a change that was immediately joyous and continues to be enriching, fulfilling, and happy, sometimes infuriatingly so. The deep love and commitment to well-being that a parent develops for a child is a bond I hadn’t thought about before my first child was born – although I grew up as a child loved that way – and I didn’t realize it could be continually duplicated with the birth of each succeeding child.
These are thoughts I should be having but it is hard because Maureen keeps interjecting her train of thought into mine. She wants me to quit philosophizing about motherhood and be a mother so we can plan her birthday party. At the moment she wants to discuss the invitations.
“I need to give them out at school tomorrow.” she says
“Why don’t I get them tomorrow while you’re at school and you can give them out the next day?” I suggest.
“No, I want to go with you so you don’t buy anything too babyish.”
We’ve compromised with Maureen trusting my good taste and me buying the invitations today.
Pete’s birthday will be another festivity. He’s been practicing up for the gala event he is planning for when he turns four by blowing out the candles on everyone else’s cake.
I’ve been trying to explain to him that he is only going to be 3 but he insists that I’m wrong. So I’ve given up. You’ll understand why if you have ever tried to change a 2-plus-year-old’s mind.
The fifth birthday on the Cavanaugh celebration agenda is the one belonging to the Mom, the Boss, the Missus, or the Old Lady (You know whom I mean).
At this point in the 30 days of birthdays, I feel my day will give a new twist to the old saying “You are not getting older you are getting better.” But in my case, after eating all the nut cups and leftover birthday cake, I think it should be, “I’m not getting older,
just filling out and having fun!”
October 28, 1987