Monday, June 11, 2012

You’re HOT, Birthday Girl! Love, Mom.

A pretty watercolor flowery image   
In a few minutes, I’ll be officially a year older than I was a few minutes ago. Happens every year, you know. This year I’ve racked up big number 47, and most of my family has tended to forget my birthday. I don’t particularly mind this, because it is a mixed blessing to turn 47, after all. But I think of the alternative and decide it’s overall a good thing. My mother remembered me, and she sent me a card in the mail. I opened it today, a pretty, decorative card with the Greeting Card Co. sentiment. So I read along, and it slowly gets just a slight bit weird, like maybe she’s lost her mind or closed her eyes and picked a card at random. This particular card begins:

“Ever since we became family,
I’ve been impressed by you.”

OK, I can see that. After all, I came out on the end of forceps looking like a miniature of Frankenstein’s monster. That’d impress anyone, really. The language is a little strange, as if I became family sometime after the Frankenstein delivery. But, to continue, it goes on:

“You know who you are
And you show it proudly.
You follow your dreams and work hard to make them
Come true…”

All this is under the nice, generic, “happy birthday daughter” rubric, so I’m hangin’ with that. After a stanza or two more of this, I turn the page to the greeting card punch line:

“You’re an incredible woman,
And I’m happy to have you in my life.
Happy Birthday
With Love.”

Now I feel like this is a card meant for a lover or a wife or something. Don’t get me wrong; I love my mother, and I’m happy to have her in my life, but I can’t picture the phrase, “You’re an incredible woman” coming out of her mouth. That’s something a lover says to his hot babe or something, or God forbid, something a very drunken suitor says at the bar when it’s nearing 2 a.m. and you’re the only possible pickup target left at last call. 

But hey, Mom sent a $30 check too, so I’m willing to go with the whole “incredible woman” thing. Maybe she’s trying to make me forget I’m middle-aged or something. Thanks, Mom! I love you too!

No comments:

Post a Comment