Yesterday, we celebrated Mommy’s birthday. It’s been all the buzz around these parts, “Mommy’s sixty!” “Mommy’s turning sixty?!” “Can you believe Mommy’s sixty?!” But it didn’t really hit me until we were sitting at her birthday dinner and I saw the front of the card Munchkinhead made her. “Happy 60th Birthday Mother.”
The numbers looked big and scary. 60? I feel like I remember when my grandparents turned 60. Maybe I do, maybe I don’t really, but it’s a number I associate with a certain image that Mommy doesn’t fit at all. The math may say 60, but the fun factor is still stuck at 32, or at least somewhere in the 30s.
Just the other day, Mommy and I were in the pool pretending our floaty rafts were bumper cars and crashing into each other. Old people tell me all the time, “when I was younger, I used to wear shoes like you; when you’re older you’ll be stuck in ugly shoes like mine.” But Mommy’s shoes are still as fun as mine, so she can’t be old.
We had a fun evening out on for her birthday. First, we all went to Cafe Centraal for birthday dinner. Minus the less-than-stellar surprise live music, it was quite fun. Munchkinhead was the designated driver and drove Daddy’s car. Daddy called dibs on the front seat even though it was Mommy’s birthday and Mommy let him take it. She, RonnyLew and I squeezed into the back. And I do mean squeezed. Munchkinhead dropped everyone off near the door and I took over the wheel for parking just in case parallel parking was required. After dinner, we took Daddy home and went to Leon’s for frozen custard. Yum!
I’m guessing Mommy finished the evening in her sewing room. That may sound like an old-people thing to do, but she’s been spending evenings in her sewing room since I was a little girl, so it’s not.
Happy Birthday Mommy! This one’s for you.