Birthdays are funny things really.

44 years ago I did nothing heroic. My mother did all the work. And in my case a few doctors were involved and we both nearly died and my non-emotional dad told my mother he loved her for the third time only. Ever! (odd man he was – he said he told her once and that was the state of being and he would tell her only if it changed. Which in some weird way I get.)

I do get that it was a big day.

But the point is that of all the people involved, I did the least. Mom pushed and was sliced, dad paced and was worried, aunt looked after brother who was overjoyed at a sibling. All I did was get yanked out and screech. And I managed to be a girl which was the plan all along.

 

But again – I did nothing

 

And yet, every year on the 2nd November I get gifts and treats and congratulations. ‘Well done’ says everyone, ‘let us all celebrate the day on which you did the least you have ever done in your life.’ And at the same time let us not even consider the people who did all the work. Or really, the pushing, sweating, in-pain mother who did everything.

 

So, while I love the gifts and never want them to stop coming, today I sent my mom flowers.

‘Thanks for having me’

 

I think we should all do this on our birthdays – cos we should really be thanking them

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