Great day for our family. Our beloved 1st born turns 25 today!
That means Josie, born in the year 2000, is now one year older than me. She lapped me on Sunday.
See, in my entire 49 years I’ve only celebrated about 24 birthdays. Birthdays were just never a big deal in my family.
In fact, the first birthday I can remember celebrating was when my parents tried to suddenly overcompensate after realizing they’d completely forgotten. I remember Dad throwing his arm over my shoulder, saying, “Happy Birthday, kid!” and handing me a Budweiser.
I was 6.
Mom, she never even knew I was born. She said she remembers the nurse bringing her a big breakfast and her saying, “Nurse, there must be some mistake. I’m not allowed to eat. I’m here to have a baby.”
The dumbfounded nurse said, “Ma’am, you can eat anything you want. Your baby was born last night.”
I’ve, of course, forgiven her. I understand the necessary role inebriation plays in surviving the daily challenges of parenthood.
Thanks to my wife, it’s vastly different for our daughters. Their birthdays are veritable Mardi Gras of celebration. They enjoy birthday privileges for the better part of the week.
It started with Josie on Saturday with special treats. Then Sunday the grandparents came over for cake and presents. She seized on the circumstances to proclaim viewership birthday privileges which meant I had to watch the Steeler game on the ancient piece of crap TV that is 25 true years old.
By my calculation, that’s what Josie will be by the end of the day, but that’s being conservative. Really, the kid could be pushing 30.
I have no problem with the excess either. Life can be short and brutal. I think many of the world’s problems are the result of us NOT spoiling our children. We should shower them with affection, even the monsters. Maybe especially the monsters.
I guess that makes me part of the Vito Corleone school of parenting. It was Don Corleone who said in “The Godfather,” “I have sentimental weakness for my children and I spoil them, as you can see. They talk when they should listen.”
He was referring to his hot-headed eldest child, Sonny, who met a premature doom at the hands of merciless gunmen laying in wait a New Jersey toll booth plaza.
That won’t happen with Josie, I’m sure. She’s a really good kid, people like her, and we have an EZ Pass.
I don’t know how I’ll feel with my 6th grader having had more birthdays than me, and it’s a situation that’ll only accelerate.
If trends continue, there’s a good chance she’ll be AARP eligible before she gets her driver’s license.
Me, I can envision a day when I cease aging altogether. My last birthday was over in just four lickety-split hours. They gave me a cake, some cards, some kisses, said I could watch my two favorite episodes of “3rd Rock From The Sun,” and that was about it.
I could get more attention from a cheap hooker.
At that four-hour pace, it’ll take me six years to add a single birthday.
As I get older, I get younger.
I have so many happy memories of the day Josie was born, same with little what’s her name.
We could shower them each with birthday bling and the material goods would never equal the spiritual ones they give us every day of the year.
A good friend of mine welcomed his second child, a daughter, into the world just eight days ago.
Altogether now, “Hello Addison Joanne Britt!”
He apologized for not responding more promptly to a congratulatory e-mail. Said he’d gotten a little behind.
I told him it was cool.
It was 12 years ago today Val and I got a little behind and we’ve been a little behind ever since.