The Birthday Blog

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Hmm hm hm hm hm hm hm, Happy Birthday to me.

[The sound of a record scratching.]

Oh crap, that sound gives away my age.

[Substitute it with the sound of a blue ray DVD cracking and a Prius putting on its breaks.]

I can feel time slipping through my hands like a rope in a tug-o-war contest. This morning my 12 year-old, right after I blew out the more than a hundred candles flaming on my makeshift breakfast birthday cake presented to me by my children, asked, "How old are you this year?"

"Twenty-seven," I said, solidly, my tone daring anyone to question it.

He dared. "Haven't you been 27 for like the last four years in a row?"

"So?"

"Mama, you're so old it's contagious," he replied, as if orienting me to reality.

While the look of horror still masked my young, wrinkle-free face, my oldest son hunched over and started grabbing his throat, saying, "I'm aging, I'm aging," in a crackly voice.

I put my fingers in my ears and sang, Hmm-hm Birthday to me, Hmm-hm Birthday to me, Hmm hm hm hm hm hm hm, Hmm-hm Birthday to me.

They yanked that tug-o-war rope through my hands so hard, it ripped the happy right out of birthday.

My Fortune is Changing

Although I'm old enough now to anticipate the general idea of what my paper fortune will say, I still love the surprise of pulling that slip from the crumbled cookie and reading, You have great mountains to climb and valleys to travel or Nothing is as precious as the voice of a friend or Seek your treasure in large portion.

But my fortunes, they are a changin'. I can tell by the way they end. In my twenties, I read my fortune aloud and tagged on in the bed. Reading, You will know your success by the sound of the cheers . . . in the bed or Let no insult take your pride . . . in the bed or A person's hands reveal his heart's intent . . . in the bed, makes twenty-somethings giggle.

In my thirties, with the arrival of children, I had to tame my wit. I ended manufactured fortunes with in the tub. Saying, Mind your own matters and let your neighbor mind his . . . in the tub or When the sky falls may your sun rise . . . in the tub or Avoid no opportunity for self-discovery . . . in the tub, makes pre-teens laugh and teenagers blush.

Aah, but now I'm in my forties and obligated to dress my age and cultivate wisdom, neither of which has stopped me from cracking open a cookie full of fortune. Some of my best lecture lines delivered to my children come out of Chinese cookies; probably because, these days, I attach an entirely new tag: in this recession. Announcing, Hot air makes balloons rise, but men fall . . . in this recession or The calling that has sounded will not be the last calling . . . in this recession or Bow to your foe with humility, but never close your eyes . . . in this recession, garners few chuckles.

It only shows my age . . . in the bed, in the tub, and in this recession.