You're-Still-Alive-Days So Be Happy!

It's been a slew of birthday celebrations in the past week: Brother, Sister, Father, Brother's girlfriend and Michael's. Their eerily close anniversaries of expulsions from their mothers' uteri came to a head on Sunday at my brother's apartment in Wrigleyville. After working my first shift back in the bar biz, I made my way over, donned in white, ready to decimate my purely, clad bodice with stains from fermented grapes. The scene was expected. The beer flowed like wine. Several friends from days gone by and a few unknown faces speckled here and there. One of the celebrants (who shall remain nameless) was dropped after an over-the-shoulder episode. It was a good crowd and only a few casualties from the party, but I hear they made a semi-quick recovery.

Today is my dad's 56th birthday. I came home and forgot the date. My sleep pattern has been off since I got back from NC, and I kept thinking it was 2 days from now. He left to play golf in a sullen, woe-is-me manner. I felt awful to say the least. On top of it, no one made plans and my mother had a meeting that would go until 8 PM. When he got back from golf you could tell he was a little tipsy. We chatted for about an hour until my mother came home. He told me that 56 was the age his dad died and therefore, it is time for his departure from this earth as well. Pretty morbid...I know.

It got me thinking about when I was 23 and up until that year, I had lived my mother's life. I went to an all-girls, Catholic high school, went to a 4 year college, got a job downtown and lived in Lincoln Park (only a few blocks from my mom's original apartment). She married at 23.....and I was no where close to it. I could even find a date much less a guy to go on multiple dates with. But it hit me not even a few months after my birthday: I AM NOT MY MOTHER! This is not a good thing or a bad thing. It's simply different. It's what makes us human. We all have a plan and though some may not agree with me due to anal retentive control issues, it is what makes life fun. We don't know what is in store for us.

In the midst of the myriad of birthdays, I never thought I'd come to such a serious conclusion. It helps to have a span of them to get the different perspectives of what each year means to each person. As a huge endorser of birthdays in general (not just for the boozy celebrations), I can't get enough of the fun but also the lessons learned. We get the chance at the beginning of the New Year to collectively reflect on how humans as a whole have developed and grown, or even have experienced sadness and loss. But each birthday should be happy because it is a manifestation of our individual growth on a literal and figurative level. We have a moment to ourselves to see what we have done and to give ourselves a little pat on the back. Be happy you've been given the chance, because living in a 3-generational house has taught me that life is fleeting. Make sure time flies by by having too much fun. :o)

Fun mom story:

Our dinner was steak and asparagus. After a few hours, my mother heads to the bathroom while I (an innocent bystander, mind you) was watching TV. She announces with the door open, "Asparagus...Process: Complete!!" Such a character.