"Big" Birthdays

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Soon, my mother is about to turn 60 (like, tomorrow).  That's a pretty big birthday.  It's not the biggest she or I would ever like to celebrate, but it's a big deal.  These days, though, 60 is positively "young" - Tom Cruise is just 10 years younger than that, and he's still doing hard-core action films.  Madonna is closer to 60 than she is to 50 (I think), and she's still traipsing around stage dressed like a "Carnival Stripper" (thanks, Elton John, for that spot-on analogy!), and don't get me started on the Stones and McCartney.  Some of my friends have siblings who are close to 60, and when I mention my mother is not even 60 yet, they can't believe how young she is (do I look THAT old, that you can't believe I would have a mom who is just turning 60?)

I don't have a "girlfriendy" relationship with my mother - partly a result of distance (we live about 3 hours apart - she, comfortably ensconced in the rural parts of NJ, me, happily running the rat race outside of NYC), but I think it's moreso a result of my independent nature, even from a young age.  Imagine a newly-married 21 year-old (gosh she was young!), excited about the birth of her first baby, looking forward to the cuddling and care-giving, only to find this baby fiercely willful and wanting to do her own thing.  Not long after, followed another baby; a "cuddler" - you know, one of those babies who never wants to be put down.  Ever.  That was my sister.  So there's my 23 year-old mother chasing down a 2 year old who liked to throw the contents of the medicine cabinet into the tub and mix everything up (hey, it was the 70's - before childproof caps!) while trying to placate the screaming 5 month old on her hip.  Next day, said 2 year old decides to climb into the crib and wake the baby from her nap by smearing her (and the walls) with peanut butter.  Man, I can't believe my mom didn't give me away after that.  She probably tried, but no one was stupid enough to fall for it.

This isn't anything several of us hasn't experienced, believe me.  Except my mom followed up with 2 more kids!  My dad was not a banker or highly paid attorney.  There were no nannies or mother's helpers.  There was no grandma around to help out - my parents moved away from their families in western PA when I was 4 or 5, to NJ, where we had no relatives nearby.  In fact, there wasn't even a station wagon!  When my brother was born (I was soon to turn 6) my parents had to buy a "bigger" car - a Ford LTD sedan (you read that right.  A sedan). We picked one in baby blue, because we had a new baby boy.  Not even 30, with 3 kids, my mom couldn't be a stay-at-home mom anymore, so she went back to work.  Except she had to work at night because my dad worked during the day.  And then she had another baby.  I was in 6th grade, had just turned 12, and my mom was probably shitting a brick.  33 years old with 4 kids!  

There are times growing up, especially as a selfish, whiny teen with no concept of the way the world works, where I thought my parents were unfair to me for having so many kids.  I wasn't able to go to sleep away camp.  We didn't go to Disney World every year like my friends did.  In order to go on the Latin trip to Italy, I had to raise my own money by selling M&Ms (that was A LOT of M&Ms.  I "sold" a lot to myself.  I was quite chubby to prove it!).  I remember my mom being my age now, getting ready to send her oldest daughter off to college.  My dad packed my every last belonging into our car (still no station wagon...by that time, he had upgraded to a Buick), and when we arrived on campus 6 hours later, he phoned home to let my mom know we had arrived.  She replied that the new "guest room" was finished!  I never lived home again after that.
Knowing what I know now, I no longer think my mom was unfair; I think my mom was brave (and maybe a lil' bit crazy).  Growing up, it never seemed like she sacrificed much to raise us, but it's glaringly apparent now that she sacrificed an awful lot to raise four kids (especially a pain in the ass like me).  There were probably lots of times that she wanted to have "date night" with her hubby, or go on a "girls weekend getaway" with one of her sisters.  Times where she wanted to go new clothes shopping instead of grocery shopping (again).  She probably wanted a cleaning lady to help out, but she had none of that.  Sure, she cajoled us into helping out now and again, but I know what my sister's bedroom looked like, and lots of those battles were losing ones.

It wasn't all doom-and-gloom raising us.  I know that there have been many, many rays of sunshine in her first 60 years, but my greatest wish for my mom's next 60 years is that they are filled with so much sun that she's gotta wear shades - and I hope they are the biggest, coolest, most stylish shades she can find!
Happy Birthday, Mom!  I know you never, ever read my blog, but I love you and I can't wait to celebrate your birthday with you tomorrow.
xxoo.