My Stolen Birthday

As the youngest of three siblings by several years, I never really had to get used to sharing.  When I was in elementary school, my siblings were in high school and college so I didn’t have to worry about them taking my GI Joes or WWF action figures. I don’t say that to make a point about selfishness, but more related to growing up with a high level of independence. What was mine was mine and I liked it that way.

That all changed three years ago this week. My birthday is coming up in a few days. I haven’t really been a big birthday celebrator in many years, partly because aging is a frustrating thing when your life isn’t exactly what you hoped it might be. I’m not complaining, as I’m very fortunate to have a wonderful wife and family. But for quite a while I brushed off my birthday as just another day.

The Little Dude was born 9 days before my birthday three years ago. In the Jewish religion we have a ceremony called a Bris that is performed on a newborn boy’s 8^th day of life. It’s a powerful ritual that goes back thousands of years and is also an important milestone shared joyously with family and friends. Given the timing of his birth, the Little Dude’s Bris was held the day before my birthday. It was a wonderful day, but I think it made me a little jealous.

As parents of a newborn, Mrs. Dude and I mostly hung around the house for the first few weeks after he arrived. And just like the day before it, the day after the Bris was no different. But it was my birthday. And part of me wanted to reclaim it like a dog who gets angry when another dog finds one of his long-forgotten buried bones.

Little Dude & me at lunch that day. 

My parents were in town and we went to lunch on my birthday at a nearby place where we could sit outside. Southern California is one of the few places in the country that affords that kind of luxury in mid-November. After lunch we went back to the house to sit around and look at the baby. And it was boring. The Little Dude was a great sleeper since birth so most of the time we just watched him. That day we also opened gifts that people had brought for him to the Bris and ate leftovers from the Bris for dinner.  

Sometime that evening, I got upset. I didn’t know why, but my emotions got the best of me and I had a slight meltdown. I’m sure exhaustion played a part, but there had to be another reason. I was blessed to be sitting with my family and beautiful baby boy so what was the problem?

It wasn’t until late that night while lying in bed that I realized my life had really changed.  Because that day was supposed to be my day. And even though I hadn’t intended to celebrate my birthday in any particular manner, it had been unknowingly co-opted by an innocent person who, ironically, was partly there because of me.

I’d wanted to get dressed and go out to dinner that night instead of just eating leftover corned beef while wearing sweatpants as we actually did. And that’s when I realized what being a parent really meant.  It took me exactly 9 days of fatherhood to realize that parenting is about being selfless for the betterment of my family. So this year I will happily share my birthday with my wife and two boys and do whatever they need or want me to do. For they are truly the greatest birthday gift I could ever hope for. 

Three Times a Lady

Since it’s the last Monday in May, today is Memorial Day which is an important American holiday for many reasons. First and foremost, Memorial Day is a tribute to the brave soldiers who’ve perished while serving in our Armed Forces. Another way of looking at it is as the only holiday in a 3 month period where I don’t have to get Mrs. Dude a gift.

Don’t get me wrong, my wife is amazing and totally deserving of every kind of gift, card and cake that you can think of.  If I had the means I would get her everything she wanted plus things she didn’t even  know she wanted, like a gold-plated toothbrush. Or a night off. But that isn’t an easy task from May through July every year. (Side note: If enough of you read this, think it’s wonderful AND tell friends who are TV producers and/or book editors, that might happen sooner than later.) 

What’s the issue?  I pay tribute to my superlative wife on the second Sunday in May for Mother’s Day. Then a mere three weeks later (give or take, depending on the year) is Mrs. Dude’s birthday. Again, gifts and cake are mandatory.  The former for her, latter for both of us. Then a little over a month later is our wedding anniversary.  Each year a more elaborate gift is customary, per some old list made by people who thought that people wanted gifts made of paper, iron or wool.

I want to make it clear: these are all great occasions that I am fortunate to celebrate. I just wish they were spaced out 2-3 months apart. Ideally an April/July/October schedule, if you know anyone who can help me reconfigure our family calendar.  Like Doc Brown.  

So what’s the bigger issue? I will be the first to admit that I am not a great gift shopper. I always tell myself that I should start looking weeks in advance, then never do and scramble at the last moment to put something together. There must be some deep psychological reason for my procrastination, but I will have to figure it out later.

It’s a challenging situation that I face. Possibly even a lose-lose situation as Michael Scott is fond of. Is one of these three days more important than the other or are they all equal? Mother’s Day rewards her for the hard work she’s done on a daily basis for 2 ½ years.  But our anniversary rewards her for the hard work she’s done on a daily basis for the last (almost) 5 years.  I must give my wife a lot of credit. Dealing with babies is not easy. And neither is raising children. 

I’d have to guess that the birthday is the least important. While it’s nice to be celebrated, no woman I know over the age of 21 wants the actual reminder that she is a year older. Then again, from my experience, they don’t usually seem to mind the cake so much.  

Another twist in this whole scenario is the Little Dude. He’s fantastic, but also a sponge financially. He rarely picks up the tab when we go out to eat and never pays for gifts. Even when he makes homemade cards for his mother, I have to do all the writing.

So what should I do if I have limited funds and want to make sure Mrs. Dude gets the most special recognition that she truly deserves?  We all know the old saying “it’s the thought that counts”, so if I merely think about getting her really nice gifts, will that be sufficient?  I’m 1/3 of the way through this year’s triumvirate. My Mother’s Day earned decent reviews, with bonus points for fresh bagels and flowers, but now I have to top that and only have a few days to spare. Can you spot me a Benjamin?

What would you do if you were me?

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