I Forgot My Mother's Birthday
I remember vividly the day I forgot my Mother’s birthday.
I was about 7 or 8 and it was a busy, hectic school day as usual, full of papers and projects and self involvement with friends. We’d been busily chauffeured here and there all day by my Mom, who was camped out in her ‘Mom uniform’ of exercise capris and athletic shoes, making sure we didn’t forget the snack or the backpack, or to do our homework after school.
Sometime around late afternoon, my Dad came home from his daily grind and kicked off his shoes in the living room. We were all in our own little bubbles and didn’t notice my Mother standing near the door, staring expectantly at all of us. We didn’t notice that she’d changed her clothes, or that she’d applied a fresh coat of lipstick.
All these years later, I keep thinking “I didn’t see. I didn’t notice.”
With a disappointed sigh, my Mother let us all know. It was her birthday, and we had forgotten. No one had gotten a card, no one had given a special hug or asked what she wanted to do with her day. She’d gone through the entire day doing what she does everyday, taking care of us all and making sure that our needs and our wishes came first.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen my Mother look so sad and small and isolated as that day. Obviously, we were all shocked and horrified and tried our best to make it up to her, but all these twenty plus years later, I think the impact that moment left is something we’re still working to erase. I used to want to make every birthday even more spectacular for her than the last, hoping the memory of a perfect present would erase the sadness of that day.
Still, all these years later, I remember that day. I remember her face, and, now that I’m a parent, I can imagine how isolating and insignificant she must have felt as a PERSON. The daily grind of being a parent and caring for others has a habit of slowly erasing other roles and personalities simply because it’s the most demanding and calls the most attention to itself. Over time, things get forgotten, including birthdays.
Even though I didn’t want to for so long, I recall every single year that horrible moment we remembered what we had forgotten. It reminded me that it’s important for me to see my own Mother as more than just ‘My Mom’ and to see her as all of the beautiful and wonderful things that make her worth celebrating. It ALSO reminds me that I need to celebrate and keep in the foreground those parts that make up ME that aren’t ‘Mommy’ just as important.
And that I need to remember to get a card a month early each year.
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