Sunday, August 02, 2009
My Day
Growing up we didn’t have a lot of traditions. Coming from a blood line filled with traditions, this was a difficult thing to accept about my adopted family even if I couldn’t voice the reasons. Nonetheless, we did have a scant few traditions, if you can call them that, and some of those came on our birthdays. Each year on our birthday, our mother would ask us what we wanted for our birthday dinner. She would then go out and get exactly what we wanted and spend all day preparing the meal.
Every single year I requested the exact same thing. I wanted a pork roast with mustard glaze, mashed potatoes, corn on the cob and a German chocolate cake for dessert. And every single year I got just that. Now, my mother did not use a lot of spices or onions, garlic, things of that nature. Her cooking was very simplistic. This is one of the reasons that I have found an excuse to put onions and garlic in to almost every dish I make. I would put onions and garlic in my cereal if it would taste good. Regardless of this shortcoming, this woman made the best mustard glaze I have ever tasted in my entire life anywhere, ever. My mouth waters just thinking about it.
I’ve always thought I would recreate that glaze but never got around to doing it. This year, however, I decided I was going to have my pork roast with the mustard glaze. I have spent all day online looking for a recipe and most of them I know she didn’t use because I know she didn’t use certain ingredients. They just did not exist in our house. Most people would say, “Why don’t you call her?” but that is not an option. So, I’m going to do the best I can with one recipe I’ve found and hope it’s close. She loved Betty Crocker so I think the one I found online from that company will be as close as I’m going to get.
Most birthdays consisted of lounging around the entire day as the birthday person did not have to do anything. I would be upstairs in my room, waiting, impatiently, for my birthday dinner and then the opening of the presents. The day lasted forever. Gah! I couldn’t stand it!
However, two birthdays stand out in my mind. One was when I was a very little kid and decided to have a birthday party. I invited all of my friends. I also invited a few of my brothers’ friends so they would have someone to play with that day. As you can see, I was a thoughtful child. So this particular year, the house was filled with little kids. Now, let me tell you something. I really do not get along with my mother figure. Never really have. There is a lot for me to dislike. But I will tell you, this woman knows how to keep kids entertained and she was creative, coming up with cool and fun things.
For example, this particular year, the invitations were sent out on Wizard of Oz invitations. On the front of the card was Dorothy, Toto, the rest of the cast all walking down the yellow brick road. Inside the card read, “Follow the yellow brick road to:” and then one would put in their information about the party. After the invitations were sent out, my mother got to work. She bought a large amount of yellow construction paper and proceeded to make something out of it.
On the day of my birthday, (I believe it was birthday number 6), she went outside with her yellow construction paper. We had a decent front yard with a sidewalk down the middle. The sidewalk was probably 30 feet long before it ended at steps to the street. This lady laid down the large, yellow construction paper she had purchased on to that sidewalk from the steps right to the front door. And when you looked down at it, you could see where she had drawn bricks so that it looked like a yellow brick road.
Is that not the fucking coolest thing?
The other birthday that stands out to me was my 11th, I believe. Again I was to have a birthday party. This time it was going to be a slumber party. We were going to have cake, ice cream, play a few games, open presents and then we were all going to go and watch the new movie, “Superman”.
Unfortunately, the day of my birthday, I woke up sick. I was so sick, I didn’t even really want to be out of bed. My mother was beginning to get worried about the party and was preparing to make phone calls to cancel. I distinctly remember her telling me to go back to my room, to my bed while she did this. As I got to the top of the stairs, I puked all over the top two steps and the landing. I apologized profusely to her but she said not to worry about it, she would clean it up but that this was a sure sign that the party needed to be canceled.
Thing is? After I vomited my guts out all over the stairs? I felt good. I felt really good. I was ready to party the instant I was done spewing. Seriously. On this day, she decided not to be her typical self and actually listened to me. She compromised with me. She stated that we would indeed have the party after all but it would not be a slumber party. Every other aspect of it would go through. She then cleaned up and went to call all the mothers of the girls I had invited.
And that’s just what happened. They all came over, we played games, we ate cake and ice cream, (the cake: again, this woman can be quite creative. This cake was a round, green Kermit the Frog face and she fashioned two arms and two legs out of colored cardboard--everyone loved it), opened presents, (I got a red tape recorder from someone so my dad stated that everyone should be recorded singing and saying, “Happy Birthday” to me on the tape), and we went to watch the Superman movie in the theater.
The rest of my birthdays I don’t really remember all that well and many of them have been completely uneventful but, every time this year, on this day, I think back to that little tradition of having whatever we want for dinner and the birthday parties I do remember. And at the center of it all, the woman who had made my life a living hell but who had her moments of outstanding glory.
Sigh. If only she could have acted like that all the time, not just on my birthday.
As I continue on in this life, while I do remember all the drama and angst, I try to focus on the good she did and how she could make me feel extremely special, like she did in those two memories. It’s probably the best birthday gift I can give to myself.
I wonder if she’s thinking of me today.
