Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday to me, Happy birthday, happy birthday, Happy birthday to me.
And a pinch to grow an inch.
Ok, now I feel weird, I've just pinched myself. I normally have to pay somebody else to do that...
So today is my birthday. What do you know about that? Way to cap off one ugly year. Maybe this year will be better than the last, eh?
So far I've got 6 birthday emails. One from My dad, one from my mom, one from a friend of mine, the blood bank sent me one, and one from Ratethemusic.com. Go figure. Rate the music, I haven't done a survey for them in almost a year, and their automated birthday system remembered me anyway. It doesn't care about what I did or didn't do, it's just there to wish me a happy birthday. No scratch that, the email said "GREAT BIRTHDAY!" They wen't all out. I don't remember the last time my wife wished me a "great" anything. I told you about Valentine's Day, right? She left a signed card on my computer. I won't go into what I did for her, because then it becomes a tit for tat match. Hell, I'll tell you what, if it makes it easier, pretend I didn't do anything at all. There.
Poof!
Now I'm a cad, I didn't give her anything. Look how much things changed. Nothing.
So if you're counting, that's five emails. The sixth? Yeah, I got an email from my wife. Actually more than an email, I got an Amazon.com Gift certificate. How much? That doesn't matter. It's the thought and personal touch that counts, right? So what did the e-card say? We'll it was a little picture of a beach, foam drawing, sand drying, sky blue-ing, very pretty. The personal note with the card?
Happy Birthday! I hope it's a really great one.
From,
____
It's really awkward to live with somebody so long and get such a sterile birthday wish.
I didn't expect to hear from my Mom yet; she got a bye this year. My step-grandmother died a little while ago, and my mom was her caretaker. Mom asked me if I wanted anything from her house; I met the woman once when she came to visit, almost 20 years ago. I can't think what I'd want, let alone deserve. Let the people who remember her fight over her memories.
If you haven't pieced things together yet, my dad's divorced. So's my mom. Well, she'd have to be huh? I mean, like marriages, divorces only come in pairs. I wonder if they're hereditary too? That would be cool, I could blame my relationship flaws on my parents. They were so irresponsible! How could they have a child knowing divorce gnawed their being like a cancer?
I was 4 when my parents divorced. At least I was four when my mom woke me up in the middle of the night.
"wake up, we're going."
"Where's dad?"
"He's not coming with us."
That's one of the few memories still bouncing in my brain from being that young. I don't even remember my fourth birthday. I do remember stumbling around asking, "Is it my birthday yet?" but not the event. My only other memory? My dog. Or more that I had a dog. I couldn't tell you his pedigree. There's a fuzzy shape that played with me. My mind has labeled him "dog." It's funny when I look at pictures of me as a kid I see several of a cat, but not my dog. I don't remember cats. I remember what he did to my teddy bear, little bastard. I also remember the cat's name: Tiki, but that's just a floating word associated with a shapeless entity. Did Tiki really exist or was it a conspiracy of cat enthusiasts to place another cat in my history? Now that I think about it, it does explain a lot. My wife: cats. My parents divorce: cats. I had a girlfriend: My mom had cats, my girfriend broke up. It's all starting to make sense to me! Get rid of the cats and the world becomes a perfect place.
While you ready the burlap sack to toss over my head so you can hurl me in the river with all the other cat bashers, let me say this: I never blamed any one for my parents divorce. My step-mother might have believed otherwise, but I didn't. The hardest part was when my parents asked me "Who do you want to live with?" I was a kid! Kid's deal in absolutes. If I was going to live with one parent, that meant I'd never see the other! I loved both my parents. Please, never put your kids through that. If you have kids, be as good as you can to them. If you break down from time to time, it's ok, kids are durable. Just don't put them in the middle of a divorce.
Me, I came out ok. And I'd like to think I'm wiser for my parents divorce and subsequent remarriages, but right now my track record isn't looking so great. I married later, I thought if I waited I'd understand women. We're never too old to realize how stupid we are.
When I was 25, a girl at a church I attended asked me "As a child of a divorce, how do you view marriage? Will you get married or avoid it." The question baffled me. I never thought about an option of not getting married. Sure sometimes it fails, but it was always something I wanted, like the Stretch Armstrong that broke within an hour of opening it Christmas morning (apparently Stretch was impervious to everything but open flame. Although I suppose scissors were his true Achilles heel. Mine didn't live long enough to test that theory out. Rest in peace Mr. Armstrong…) . Sure, some people should avoid marriage like a nest of rats in a plague colony, but me, I embraced it like a warm puppy. Can I blame the puppy for the fleas?
Yeah, both my parents were flawed, and sure, my wife and I are very flawed, but I know people who've been happily married for fifty years plus. With the life expectancy in my family being what it is, I'll never see that, but even if this one fails, I could expect to see a short enjoyable run with someone who loves me. Maybe even someone without cats.
No, there's more than enough blame, and flaws to toss around, and if I use my birthday to dwell on those, how can I move forward? No, I'll blow each flaming candle out with the warm wind of happier times:
After I bought this house, my dad stood on my back porch and told me he was proud of me.
blow...
My mom took me in after my roommates bailed on me, leaving me with about $750 in unpaid utilities.
blow...
My four year old sister hugged me and said "I love you Robby," the night I left my dad's house for the last time.
blow...
My friend Terri took my phone call at 3am and picked my drunk-ass up after the cops took my drunk designated driver to jail.
blow...
My wife gave me a lap top desk, and some books on writing because she believed in my talents.
blow...
And a pinch to grow an inch...
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