But every time it rains
You’re here in my head
Like the sun coming out
Ooh, I just know that something good is gonna happen
I don’t know when
But just saying it could even make it happen
– Kate Bush
It’s funny how time is measured. Time is so slow when we are anticipating something. I am sure we all remember standing in the long lines for a roller coaster, turning the corner thinking we are about to board, only to realize that we have been bamboozled into another row of lines.
And, then the ride passes in an instance.
I remember as a kid that the time between Spring Break and Summer was painstakingly arduous and our teachers, even if fresh out of school, were old. Hell when I was in 6th grade, high schoolers seemed to be adults.
Now it’s almost the end of May and I am like what the fuck, Christmas was only yesterday.
Today, I turned 50. It was without fanfare but as they say you “got to get busy or get busy dying.”
I went to dinner with a close friend at an amazing restaurant and wore a pretty dress. (My dress was actually all kinds of amazeballs!). All was documented in Instagram fashion, complete with my favorite filter and the boomerang margarita photo.
“Friends” messaged me on Facebook. Luckily this friend told me as I haven’t checked my account in 7 years. I guess they have not noticed my kids have been stuck in 2nd grade and kindergarten as their kids have grown as my last post was of a dance recital when my daughter was in the level one ballet/tap combo class and my son still wore glasses to correct his lazy eye. For those keeping score, my daughter is now en pointe and my son finished his first season of bantam hockey.
I marveled today how people undermine online friendships, yet two of my most loyal tumblr friends who I have yet to meet texted me throughout the day to wish me a wonderful day.
Yet my son waited until 10:52 PM to wish me happy birthday.
Maybe I am really a shitty mom, too strict or just not fun. It’s not like I don’t know he rented “Beverly Hills Cop” with his dad two days prior for his birthday. Sadly, I know this as I received the email from Amazon that they were charging my credit card.
I may never know why this child has opted not to recognize my birthday until it was virtually over. Maybe, I shouldn’t care or this is the wake up call I needed.
Perhaps I shouldn’t forget it when hockey rec fees are due this fall. But no, I will still be that mom putting forth my credit card, checking skate comfort and cheering for him every weekend for a 20 week season. I will be that mom that reminds him to sign his daddy’s birthday card and the mom that buys his dad’s gift from he and his sister that gets no acknowledgement from either party.
The sad part is one will never know, but 10:52 will be forever scarred into my brain….
– The Girl