Today is February 4th. Why is that significant? Well, if you’re my daughter, Iz, it’s significant because this month you celebrate your 8th birthday.
Actually, for Iz, it’s not a day of celebration. It’s almost a month-long planning endeavor (until the 23rd) followed by a day of celebration. Of course, when February 25th arrives, you’d think that her birthday would be over; it’s not. There's another four days to celebrate!
Iz’s birthday actually begins six months before her birthday. Last year, this began in the Spring when she asked, “Mom, am I seven or seven and a quarter?” I’d answer, “You’re seven.” Then she’d asked, “Are you sure I’m not seven and a quarter?”
In the Summer, she’d ask, “Mom, am I seven and a half or seven and three-quarters?” I’d answer. Actually, I’d just sigh. Then I’d remember that when you’re young, you want to be older versus us older people who want to and pretend to be younger!
When she checked her Christmas list for the eighth time in December, I said, “You’re not getting a puppy.” She asked, “Why?” I said, “Because we have Monty!”
She asked, “Can I get a puppy for my birthday then?” Somehow the “We have a dog, so we don’t need another dog” concept was lost on her. I decided it was time for the big guns, so I said, “No!!!!!”
She gave me a look, and then she continued to read her list; it was as if she was prioritizing. If Santa could bring her only this and that, then her parents could give her that and this on her birthday. I wish I had been that savvy as a seven-year-old.
Then it was January. She began to ask not how old she’d be on her birthday but how many weeks, days, hours, and minutes it was until her birthday. Our local Irish pub has a clock that counts down to St. Patrick’s Day; unfortunately, they recently closed, and I wondered if I shouldn’t try to buy the clock from them and reset it for February 24th instead of March 17th.
When the calendar was flipped to February, things changed radically. There were no longer questions about “when” her birthday would occur. She knew February meant that it was totally her party time. The questions were now about “how,” “when,” and “where” would we celebrate her birthday.
There was a minor complication in the birthday planning process for Iz. The complication’s name was Nathan. He was a complication in the fact that his birthday came before Iz’s; his birthday was February 12th.
Of course, I answered any birthday planning question that Iz had. Could we have a puppy at the birthday just for entertainment purposes? I said, “No!!!!”
One day she overhead me talking about plans for Nathan’s birthday. She asked, “Why does Nathan get to go out to dinner with his friends?” I said, “Because that’s what he wants to do.”
I talked about presents for Nathan. She seemed irritated that Nathan was getting any presents at all and especially before her. “Nathan’s getting a Subway gift card,” she asked one night quite perturbed.
I began to think that at any minute I’d turn into Carol Brady. I’d be jettisoned into Mike’s study; I’d be telling Mike about my day, and he’d be listening intently to every word I said. In retrospect, “The Brady Bunch” should have been called “Fantasy Island” instead. (Err, ignore the bitter woman behind the pink laptop!)
Anyway, Iz would storm into Mike’s study, not unlike Jan Brady, and tell me that it was unfair that Nathan was born before and therefore celebrated before her. She would then say, “Nathan, Nathan, Nathan!” I would look at her and say in my infinite Carol Brady wisdom, “Suck it up! It’s not my fault that I had Nathan 10 years and 12 days before you!”
I had Nathan by c-section. He was overdue, breach, and the cord was around his neck; therefore, there was no other option. When I was pregnant with Iz, I had the option of a c-section given my history.
Given that Iz’s Dad traveled a lot, I opted for the c-section. If truth be told, I did ask my doctor if I could have Iz on the 12th. He said that would be too early, and in retrospect, though he was only speaking in medical terms, he was right. Each child deserved a different birthday, so Iz’s birthday would be on the 24th.
After Iz finally accepted that Nathan was going to have a birthday before her, she stopped the birthday celebration comparison. Though she did ask, “Why can’t I go to dinner with Nathan and his friends?” I said, “Because it’s Nathan and his friends.”
She said, “I’m Nathan’s friend.” I then visualized the scrunched up look on Nathan’s face, which said “I don’t think so!” I answered, “Nathan loves you, but he’s going to have dinner with his friends. We’ll have dinner with him the night before.”
Iz pondered this. She probably then thought about how much she adored Nathan’s friend, Joey, but then hid the moment he came in the door. And, after much thought, she said, “Okay,” knowing that she would not have to deal with Matt, who was “weird,” but who, like Joey, she also adored.
She was intrigued by them yet she knew that ultimately they had cooties. Confused, she opted to view them from afar. Good move, Girl; I wish I had done that more.
Even if you’ve accepted something, sometimes you still have doubt. After Iz accepted that Nathan’s birthday was before hers, she had one last question. (It was a last question about his birthday; unfortunately, it was not her last question!)
One day, when we were sitting on the couch watching an iCarly episode for the 16th time, she asked, “If I was born ten years ago, would my birthday be before Nathan’s?" I laughed. I said, “No. Nathan’s still older because he’s ten years older than you. If you were born then, that would only make you two years older than you are now.”
She looked puzzled. Exasperated I said, “You see, he is ten years older than you. His birthday is before yours. He's older, and the only way you could be older was if you were born…” She then said, “Shhhhh, Mommy. I haven’t seen this part before.”
The other morning, I went into Iz’s room to put some clothes away; as usual, her room was a wreck. I put her clothes away, and then I turned to pick up a few thousand things off of the floor. I saw that the whiteboard hanging over her bed had been updated; like her Mom’s blog, it seemed her whiteboard changed often to reflect her feelings.
Her board was now a snow day predictor and birthday planner. In the top left and right-hand corners, were predictions about school indicated by “mite be cansled” and “mite be a delay.” There was also a forecast, which conveniently tied into her birthday party. It read, “A lot of snow it will be a foot here! So make sure for my birthday bring snow pants hats&gloves & boots thank you! :)”
[Brenda: I’m thinking with that forecast that she might be taking after you! I’ll never forget the time I left Nantucket in March. You e-mailed me before I left and told me the winds were, um, knotty, so I should take Dramamine before the trip. ♥)
Iz added to her birthday party agenda by stating “by the way a magican at my party so there would be popcorn and drinks!” I noted that she also wanted a democratic vote on sweets. She wrote“let me know what cake vote here.”
Then there was a grand finale. She said, “I have a lot of animals and they mite be in the show you will too!” If you’re introverted and don’t like to perform on demand, I advise that you be washing your hair the day of Iz’s eighth b’day party.
Some people might think a day was sufficient to celebrate the birth of someone special; I’m glad Iz saw it all so differently. She saw herself worthy of months of pre-party preparation and a month-long celebration. You go with the self-esteem, Iz; you are my heroine, and, ironically, I want to be just like you someday. ♥
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