Ever since I was a kid I have hated birthdays. Don't have any idea why, I just hate them. I hate the attention, the stupid little Happy Birthday song, the soda.....and for a decade now the signs of aging, yecch!
So my dear, doting parents would go to all lengths to give me surprise parties while I secretly loathed them. The only time I ever remember enjoying one is when I got an ice cream cake for the first time.
As soon as I reached adulthood, I finallly told my Mom how I felt. At first she looked kind of hurt, seeing as I had just opened her thoughtful little present, but then she suddenly burst out in laughter and told me she had always secretly felt the same! From then on, when each other's birthdays came up, we would just give each other that sly, knowing look and Mona Lisa smile,.......he he
Inherited energy? Who knows?
Everything in my life seems a series of bizzare contradictions. Now I have a man who is as sensitive as a poet and remembers all dates, milestones, Valentines, etc., down to the hour and minute. I have had a very hard time explaining to him that, yes, I do care, and yes, it is 'somehow' significant, but I just don't place all that much stock in dates and flowers. I know, I know, I sound like a real brat and I probably am.......
In the meantime, I have begotten a daughter who sems to be totally different from Mom and Grandma. Like a traditional girly-girl, she loves her birthday, getting all the attention and receiving gifts, flowers and perfume. Oh brother, so now I have to be very careful not to rub off my quasi-cynicism on her and show her how much I love and appreciate her, in the way that she receives it best. But hey, it's a challenge, I've got to keep all kinds of fool proof reminders around so I don't hurt the ones I love the most. Wheoof!
I do enjoy giving and receiving presents though, but mostly at Christmas and Hannukah - - - go figger!