This is an appropriate post because my birthday is coming up.
Don’t worry, that statement has a point!
Also, in case you missed it, I did just mention that it will be my birthday soon.
I’m going to preface this conversation that I had with my roommate by saying that I can’t begin to throw myself into her shoes. I didn’t have her childhood. I know that it was rough for her in some aspects, but in others, she was surrounded by people that loved her.
On to the humor.
I came home one Monday to find my roommate back from a trip to move her little cousin into college for the start of her freshman year. Big day! I remember when I first moved in. It’s crazy how clearly I can see it all.
But this isn’t about me.
She was unpacking things on her bedroom floor.
S- “I was so mad this weekend, I started crying”
M – “Why?”
S – “My grandparents didn’t tell me happy birthday”
M – “Oh that sucks. What were you doing?”
S – “Well we were moving my cousin into her dorm, so I guess they got all caught up in the excitement”
M – “Isn’t your cousin starting her first year of college? That is exciting.”
S – “Yeah… they didn’t say anything to me until later. We had a birthday celebration! I got so much cool stuff!”
M – “oh. I thought you said they forgot your birthday?”
S – “No, they just didn’t remember to say happy birthday in the morning or all day. I actually had two birthday celebrations this weekend” [Wait What?]
M – “Oh…. cool”
I walked upstairs.What?
She was turning 25.
I mean, I love cake and ice cream as much as any 5 year old who loves life (I say this because there are people out there who hate sweets and to me they aren’t real people). But, I’m going to be turning 25 and I have my eye on some delicious, well mixed cocktails and flowers and maybe some ice cream or cake or a nice dinner as a birthday celebration from
my significant other myself.
I’m lucky if I get a text message from my mom or dad on my birthday. Do I care? Not really. I didn’t do much when I was born anyway, I should be wishing my mom a Happy Birthday instead. Happy Birthday mom! Congratulations and thank you for pushing out not one, but TWO babies in the same day!
Last year on my 24th birthday, I went to the zoo and had frozen yogurt – alone. It was fun. Well except for the horrible conditions those poor animals are kept in at the National Zoo. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had some fantastic birthdays. I turned 19 in Chile – I went to the Andes mountains that day and we had a BBQ back at the one dude from the university’s house. My 21st was spent in Ireland, though we didn’t go out on the night I turned 21. My mom, however, did drink my brother under the table in the hotel bar the night before. That was a sight to see. For reference – my brother is almost 6’1″ and probably was around 195 then and my mom is 5’1″ and weighs in at a wopping 105 after a large meal. She never drinks either. He was ashamed.
Anyway, so that happened. I couldn’t comprehend crying at the age of 25 because, despite 2 birthday celebrations, my grandparents who were busy moving my cousin into college for the first time, forgot to say Happy Birthday before I got my hands on cake and presents.
That is all.