Before you judge me (actually, this will probably even give you more reason to judge me) I’m the kind of killjoy that hates birthdays and hates surprises and the worst kind of torture you could plan for me would be to give me a surprise birthday party.
The ninth day of December should, in my view, be just another day on the calendar. But nay, it’s another day on the calendar for people to buy me crap presents and force me to leave the house for “birthday lunch” and to socialise and make small talk when all I wanted to do in the first place was stay in bed and read books all day and eat pizza and smoke copious amounts of our friend maryjane. On my own. The only concession I would make to it being my birthday would be to stay in my birthday suit all day. But then, I’d do that every other day too, if I could – so that’s really just another indication of why my birthday should be treated the same as every other calendar day.
And Mothers’ Day. Just another crap excuse to force me out of my house on Sunday, for breakfast. When I don’t even eat bacon, eggs, sausages or burger patties. Look, I appreciate the sentiment behind celebrating Mothers’ the world over. I really do. It gives those mothers who go unrecognised, their recognition and affirmation, at least one day every year. I’m down with that. But what about those mothers that are down with flying under the radar and rather being appreciated as a mother by enjoying the kisses from their child, the smile when he sees they see their mothers’ face.
I’m the kind of mother that would probably prefer hand-drawn cards to store-bought boxes of chocolate and heart mugs and ‘best mom in the world’ slippers. I’d rather have a piece of card with a crazily-drawn scarecrow with straw hair and and a heart and an arrow pointing to the stick figure with the letters ‘M-O-M’ emblazened on it. I’d rather have something my Kid made me in Art class, than a gift he paid money for.
Perhaps now once you’ve realised that this means I’m sentimental in a totally non-materialistic way, you’ll be less inclined to judge me when I say: I hate birthdays and I hate mothers’ days. Because it makes my Boyfriend feel pressurised into buying me presents. When he does so enough all the time, anyway. He feels compelled to buy me expensive presents when it comes to my birthday and mothers’ day. And really. That’s not what I want.
He got it right the first Valentines we spent together. Butterfly lawn decorations and thousands of fairy lights. Perfect. Nail on the head. Inexpensive, gaudy and right up my alley. And then for my 24th birthday a macbook. Not long after, a Blackberry. Then a car. And now, for mothers’ day he wanted to buy me a DSLR camera. And believe me, I want one. But I don’t want Mothers’ Day to be an excuse for it to be bought for me.
I want it to be bought on another day of the year, and I want it to be bought because it was something I really, really wanted. Like I knew that the Sony Bravia massivehugebigtelevision was for him. I didn’t buy it for his birthday, and I didn’t buy it for Fathers’ Day or for Christmas – i bought it FOR HIM.
And this is what’s going to happen next year: on Mothers’ Day my Kid and my Boyfriend will be shipped out of the house for the day. They can go to Gold Reef City and go on all the rides. Mommy will be left at home, in bed. With books, cigarettes and a plentiful supply of our friend maryjane, and I want to just be left the fuck alone. The day before, we will have done some family thing together and The Boyfriend will have bought me something that he knew I really wanted. Worst case scenario: we will shop for something I want. (Which we actually did this year, and it was cool*) Whatever happens, it will be MY day.
This is what’s going to happen this year, for my birthay: Absolutely nothing. I want to be left alone in peace to be grumpy and miserable about turning 26. That’s almost higher than I can count without losing count. Whatever happens, it will be MY day.
Look, don’t get me wrong. My entire mothers’ day yesterday wasnt a total write-off. Although I am still very miff about the fact that I had to miss my sisters‘ babyshower. And I spent two and a half hours in a parking lot getting yelled at by my Boyfriend**, in the blazing hot sun. I also felt sick and grotty, had to watch Astro Boy twice, and return the DVDs and fetch The Kid from his granny, and go to the shops to get cigarettes. Yeah, as you can see – there wasn’t much that was fun about yesterday.
* One of my Mothers’ Day gifts – Chris Van Wyk’s new book – “Eggs to Hatch, Chickens to Lay“. (click link to buy) I got into bed with it last night, and I’m already nearly finished it. LOVE IT. Absolutely recommended as seriously good, funny reading.
**Parallel parking. In four months, I forgot how to do it.