Growing up, I had a distant cousin, or Mom did, whose birthday was on the same day as mine. I don’t know where this cousin found them, but I would get Happy Mutual Birthday cards from her every year–one of which I found recently in a box in Mom’s garage.
That’s nothing like what we have in the Bradstein Household, however. 3B was due on my birthday, so for nine months, Mama was excitedly talking about how cool it would be for her boys to share a birthday. 3B had other plans, however, and arrived on Mama’s birthday–as Mama says, he’s the best birthday gift that she ever got.
My view is that he is the best gift, but she damn well earned it with all the work she did.
Of course, this means that I have one fewer date to remember every year, but it also means that Mama’s birthday will constantly be in danger of being overshadowed by 3B’s, which she’s said she’s fine with, but which I want to ensure never happens. Although it was a crazy time of year, with me being in California for a week, and Mama and 3B being in Maine up until the day before their birthday, I somehow managed to pull off a surprise birthday party for Mama at the perfect location–a pizza place (perfect for Mama) that’s made for kids (perfect for 3B . . . OK, and for me).
As I said, it was a bit crazed, so I have no video or photos to share (before you even ask, King), but Mama was completely surprised, excited, and relieved that she knew nothing about it, which meant that she couldn’t stress out over the arrangements. No, no, no, that was my role this year. I was nothing but relieved and happy to see Mama so happy all evening. Plus, I got to hang out with all of her friends, and we all know that they’re the coolest, just like Mama.
For 3B’s upcoming party, however, we hope to capture some footage and shots, but in case we miss, here’s some pictures from some earlier 1-year-old birthday celebrations. The first few are from Mama’s first birthday, followed by those from your favorite red-headed Bradstein’s cakelove party at Grammy’s in Maine.
Mama says that he looks like me . . . not when he’s eating cake he doesn’t–he’s the spitting image of Mama, don’tcha think?