Mocha With Linda has started her very own meme. This is how she describes it:
This new meme’s purpose is to have us take a look back and share about a specific time or event in our lives. It will be fun to see how similar – or different – our experiences have been!.
I am enjoying this meme a lot. Grab the button and the link and come play along. Linda’s theme this week is:
What were birthdays like when you were growing up? Were they a big deal or understated? Did you have parties? Get to choose what or where the family ate for dinner? Are there any particular birthday traditions that you remember? Is there any birthday that stands out (good OR bad!), either due to the events surrounding it or due to the particular present(s) you received?
Maybe it is better that I was too busy to post this morning since today (Friday) is Amoeba’s birthday and not the day to focus on mine. The first birthday I recall with any vivid memory was my 6th. I mentioned it in passing on a previous post. I had a wonderful and lavish birthday party. Lots of kids came. There was fun and games and shrieking and laughter. I was dressed in frills and lace. My hair was curled and crowned with satin bows. I felt like a fairy princess.
About half way through the party my dad went out, got in his pick up and drove away. He worked over 100 miles away and always left on Sunday evening to travel back to his bunk in the mining camp. When I entered the house after waving good-bye to my dad, my step-mother said it was cake and ice cream time. I ran to the table with the other kids.
Apparently in my play I had soiled my dress, the curl had fallen out of my hair, and I’d lost some satin ribbons. My punishment was to sit at the head of the table with my hands folded in my lap like a proper lady. I was not allowed any cake or ice cream.
After I went to live with my Gram, I was allowed a “with kids” birthday party every other year. Every year I got to pick my own cake. I always chose angel food cake with strawberries and ice cream. I was also allowed to choose whatever I wanted for dinner. Believe it or not, I almost always asked for creamed tuna on toast.
When my dad remarried, my second step-mom always made German Chocolate cake from scratch, and served it with homemade vanilla ice cream. Usually the whole family was invited to dinner. Again, I was allowed to pick whatever I wished for dinner. I have no recollection what I chose, but I do remember that my birthday one of the few times each year I was released from kitchen clean up.
After I married, my ex-husband always had the first barbecue of the year on my birthday. It was steaks on the grill, baked potato and green salad. My MIL usually made a Boston Cream pie for my cake.
Because of my first birthday memories, I almost always stressed about whether or not my birthday would be remembered. It was important to me that everyone acknowledge it so I knew I was valued. Even after my divorce, all the years I was single, I made certain there was some kind of birthday celebration, even if I had to do it myself.
Now Amoeba is in my life and I find I don’t care that much about my birthday anymore. I don’t think it is because I have gotten older. I think it is because I am celebrated every day, and I know I am cherished. It is a wonderful and precious gift which I treasure.