From when I was young I validated the relationship I had with my parents with our birthdays.
I was suppose to be an April baby, but I stayed until the 3rd of May.
I’m proud if baby me. Why? Because now every other day is a birthday.
Mother : May 1st
Me : May 3rd
Father : May 5th
Clearly my little sister of 8 is quite jealous since her birthday is in August.
Back to the point, I always loved the first week of May because of all our birthdays. There’d be endless “happy birthday” phone calls, early,present,and belated.
There would be a crap ton of cake and smiles.
So how is it that this is the first year my parents get into a fight trying to plan a birthday celebration.
The whipped cream on all this is that I have bitter aunt whose birthday is today and would be spiteful if I didn’t wish her. Then hypocrisy hits when her own daughter doesn’t wish my mother.
And finally the cherry on top :
The year I turn 20 leaving my childhood years behind. Leaving the “teen” in nineteen I have to pack again and move for school.
Great way to start adulthood. A brilliant first impression of what it means to grow up.