Happy Birthday to Me!

I had a wonderful birthday this year thanks to great family and friends. My birthday, like many years, fell over multiple days. On Sunday, my brother and sister, sister-in-law, three nephews (one representing the brother and family who couldn't make it), and a niece drove out to spend the day with me. We started by spending all afternoon in the kitchen doing our best to duplicate Mom’s Chicken and Dumplings. Mom cooked everything “to taste.” Pots simmered for “awhile.” And all ingredients were quantified as “some.” With my mom’s recipe and instructions, it took Brenda, Josh, Andrew, and I hours to do what Mom did alone. We of course had plenty of help from Gracen and Sayler. Gracen can make great dumplings, Sayler can crack an egg (better use a separate bowl), and we were pretty impressed with what our Dust Buster could pick up. 

Yes we were a little low on chicken . . . . and dumplings, our broth wasn’t as thick, and apparently Brenda thought we had too many carrots; but that was one of the best times I have had in the kitchen. The meal was delicious, not Mom’s, but delicious. The real joy of the dinner was making it. The whole time I thought to myself, “I’m so happy to be with my family.” Ginny, Randy, and Christopher joined us for dinner and I pulled out the folding table and chairs and we all fit at the same table. It was perfect. 

The real tragedy was the cake I made myself. Oil, eggs, cake mix. How can you screw that up? I know, you use the wrong pan even though you have Mom’s perfect cake pan in the garage. Oops. Thanks for putting on a stern face and chomping through that yellow brick with chocolate frosting. 

The night was capped off with playful chatter in the living room and an outrageous, yet sweaty, round of bull-dogging in Reagan’s room. In case you’re wondering, bulldogging is when one toddler rides on a grown-up’s back, dives onto a bull (another grown-up) and tackles him to the ground. This also leads to toddler jousting, and then just wrestling. No one was injured. 

On my actual birthday, Susan started me off right. I came home from my morning class at about 10:30 and walked into my little family waiting for me as I opened the door. Wife and daughter were both dressed in cute outfits, I had flowers and presents on the counter, a fresh pot of coffee, and Reagan was “holding” a sign that read “Happy Birthday Daddy.” I felt like a million bucks. 

For my day, I asked for two things. 1) I wanted to go on a bike ride. My first one post-Reagan. 2) I wanted Susan to cook me a dinner I had never had before, with no opinion or suggestion or answer from me.

At 1:30 on a beautifully sunny October afternoon, I met up with my riding buddy Brandon and down through the Back Bay, up PCH, and down Main Street, Huntington Beach to Starbuck’s. Then we headed back. A great 30 mile bike ride, just what I needed. 

Later that evening, on my way home from class I pulled off into a parking lot and threw on a tie to formal things up a bit. When I came home Susan had dinner on the stove, a candle lit table setting, and a glass of Falkner Riesling (B’day gift from Ginny and Randy). It was just what I had hoped for. Unfortunately we also had a fussy baby. As I sat on the recliner talking with Susan as she fed Reagan and we worried about the carefully prepared pasta getting cold or the croutons in the Caesar salad getting soggy I couldn’t help but admire my beautiful little family. Sure we were supposed to eat at 8 and we didn’t get the baby to sleep and sit down until 9. But such is life. And we didn’t care. We were a family, together. We’re a couple with a newborn, you got to be flexible. 

When we finally did sit down the dinner was outstanding. Susan made a Caesar salad and linguini with ham and peas (I like peas, Susan doesn’t. Another little added bonus for my birthday.) For dessert, a light and fluffy yellow cake with chocolate frosting made in the correct pan. Afterward, we walked into the living room and we danced; another one of my favorite things. 

The other day I heard a DJ on the radio claiming no man older than 21 should give a darn about any birthday that doesn’t end in zero. I couldn’t disagree more. Honestly, I don’t care about turning 31. That doesn’t really mean anything significant. A birthday is just a nice excuse to go out of your way to show your love and to make someone feel special. I learned that from my mom. Mom always made birthdays special. We always had birthdays as an excuse to come together as a family. Now, as I just had my first birthday without Mom, my family picked it up a notch for me. My wife and sister even called/texted at the minute I was born since Mom couldn’t this year. Later this month we’re getting together again for Sayler’s birthday, then Chistopher's, Brenda’s in November, Josh’s in December, Susan’s in January . . . .