My youngest son and I are polar opposites. I hate attention, he loves it. It’s only as of late (as in the past two years) that I’d ever consider acting silly in front of others–see the T-Rex story for a month ago. My youngest though loves it and I think he gets it from my mom.
I, on the other hand, hate it so much that one thing I absolutely abhorred and dreaded growing up was going to a restaurant on my birthday.
I know, I know, some people totally love this. I did not. I always wanted to crawl under the table when the entire waitstaff would come by and start singing and clapping, all in the name of delighting my mom who had a camera in front of her face to document this glorious occasion and for me to get a (usually) free dessert.
One of the most memorable times that this happened was for my 13th birthday, my parents took me to McGrath’s Fish House, though I absolutely hated fish. Why did they take me there? Oh, because the birthday boy or girl, man or woman, got to wear something extra special on their head: a giant stuffed fish hat. And for as much as I gritted my teeth and ducked, that damn hat found its way on my head, then they sang and took a polaroid picture that they promptly tacked up on the cork board that lined the entry way to the restaurant.
Now, how is that for love: we go to a restaurant I hate and I’m made to wear a fish hat all for the entertainment of my parents–and it’s not my tainted memory, I will forever remember their cackles and giggles during the whole ordeal.
Fortunately, that’s been more than 14 years ago now, and I am just now to a place where I can talk about it without grinding my back teeth to powder. It has taken A LOT of therapy to get this far. However, I do believe the last hurdle (at least according to the shrink I’ve been seeing about this my entire life) might be to pull a Liberty.
Unfortunately, I won’t be able to be with my mom on her birthday this year, but I can do something special on here!
So, mom, as you might be expecting by now, I plan to post a picture. I spent more than an hour searching through all of my pictures of you and had several very promising choices–50s attire hula-hooping at my birthday, sponge curlers, tree-hugging (or rather shrug hugging in Salt Lake City), leg modeling in Baton Rouge, and so many others.
But alas, I couldn’t decide on just ONE pictures, so I have to post a few–starting with naughty statue you forced me to buy and place next to my front door:
And then of course, there is the tin poster I saw in Galveston that YOU inspired:
Fortunately, that’s not all you inspired, but a fun magnet, too:
But alas, there is one–or, rather two–other things I know you influenced, because you take every opportunity to inform me that it’s only nine months from your birthday to mine…
Mom, I hope you have a wonderful day! Sorry I couldn’t be there, but I’ll try to call when I can!
And to anyone else out there who still has children at home, keep this in mind. Beware of how you chose to embarrass them today, for they could use the Internet to get even in the future! (Which, just in case anyone is totally offended by this post and appalled, you should know I wouldn’t have posted it if I thought it would upset my mom.)