My mommy had a birthday! Thank you for the well wishes via blog...she's one of my readers, so she was happy to see thos :).
Despite some random health concerns this week, she had a smile on her face anytime I saw her. I think that, despite the fact that her two best (local) friends nearly forgot her birthday completely, she had a good week. It's important that she realizes how much the people in her life care about her. It's not just love, it's caring.
Love can only go so far, but I think that caring about someone, even if it tends to get delegated to a few steps below love (i.e, "I love you" followed by "Well, I'm not there yet, but I really care about you). No, caring is perhaps the physical testimony to loving someone. Caring about someone means bringing them a snickers bar when you know they need one, or making sure that there is always coke in the house, even though you, yourself don't drink it, or picking up one of those samples at Costco and giving it to someone when you get home from grocery shopping. It's the little things, the little happy things that show love.
So, Mommy had a birthday. And despite her fears that we, her husband of 29 years and daughter of 26 years, both lifelong Catholics, would forget that we could not eat meat on the Friday before Easter and inadvertently take her somewhere that did not serve fish, we went to a lovely Japanese restaurant (sort of the local version of Beni Hana), where they prepared us our (fish) meal right in front of us. We dined on calamari, halibut and shrimp. The men (my dad and WG) both enjoyed a Kirin (very wheaty Japanese beer), and my dad was thoroughly pleased by WG's statement that, "I'll get whatever he gets, because he knows what he's doing" (yes, in a Japanese restaurant, my dad MORE than knows his stuff...so points were scored, and both my mom and I were very pleased by this). My dad ordered my mom a Strawberry Daquiri (since the introduction of WG into my life, more alcohol has been consumed in my family than in the last five years combined, and this is not necessarily a bad thing), so that should could, indeed "sip Bacardi like it's your birfday."
Later, we went to grab a coffee, headed home to blow out the candles, do presents and watch an old (but incredibly funny) Saturday Night Live. In between, yes literally, in the moment when she was about to see the identity of her presents, my mom peeked through the doorway of the kitchen so that she could see the large TV in the family room and see if her beloved Giants might just see fit to Beat L.A. on her birthday (they didn't, but they gave her an early gift on the 5th by winning 5-3). It was quite comical, watching her pause mid-open to lean over as far as she could to see the television.
In the end, all the presents got opened, she shed some tears, and she was happy.
And that's really all that matters.
Happy Birthday, Mama!!