Sunday, January 9, 2011

Birthday pity party for me and the boy

Zed (who is now 10 days into being eight years old) has been sick for a couple of days and he woke me up at 4:22 a.m. Eventually he fell back asleep, but I haven't been quite so lucky.

Two nights ago he did the same thing and my lovely wife stayed up with him, tried to get him to drift back to sleep, and generally had her night's sleep ruined. Last night was my turn at the wheel of slumber-less mayhem.

After he drifted off and I miserably failed to do the same, I got up and puttered and cleaned and tidied and computer-ed and did my very, very best not to disturb anyone.

It's now been four hours since that rude awakening and Zed is once again out of bed while his mum and brother sleep in a little bit.

He's beside me now, playing on his DS as I take a bit of a break from my attempts to conquer the tiny chaos of messes that are constantly threatening to encroach and overwhelm my life.

And as he is battling whatever he battles as he plays Pokemon, my mind wanders and I look at him and I see myself and I think of how much I dislike my birth date and how I hope it works better for Zed.

January the sixth is a wretched date for a birthday. And for all my life, it's been mine.

In years past I've quite melodramatically referred to it as "The Unholy Trinity", composed of three parts, being Christmas, New Year's and then my birthday. I'm an epiphany baby, born on the 12th day of Christmas and unlike in the song, what I often get is not a partridge in a pear tree but instead I get a little down, a little depressed, a little morose.

My brother's birthday is 14 days *before* Christmas and years ago he and I made a vow that we would never give each other combined Christmas-birthday presents. The combined Christmas-birthday present is the most cruel of perennial pranks played on people born at this time of year -- our theory is that if we had been born in May we would have scored that present at Christmas time and then got something new and exciting for our birthday. No one has ever received a bigger and better present for be born close to Christmas. The birth date is the ultimate annual booby prize.

But while it must suck for my brother in similar ways, at least his birthday isn't an after-thought or a supposed day of personal celebration after everyone is all celebrated out. So, in typical Philip Roth sibling rivalry, I feel that my brother has it bad, but I've got it worse.

12 days after Christmas and six days into the New Year, my birthday is an annoyance like a tax return that has to be rushed to be filed or a tooth that you finally go see the doctor about. It is the sad footnote to the question "How was your Christmas and New Year's?" with my response being "Oh they were great. And it's my birthday on Thursday." The look on a person's face upon hearing the news is a mixture of pity and contempt, as if to say, "Jeez buddy, I just got over two important dates, and you expect me to care that it's your birthday? -- I'm all happy-ed and merry-ed out. Too bad for you."

And poor, poor Zed is facing a similar situation.

My son was unfortunately born on December 30th.

Oh it could be much, much worse. He could have been born on New Year's Eve, New Year's Day or Christmas itself.

Many, many years ago I knew a guy who was born on December 25. He grew to dislike Christmas and hate his birthday: everyone else got a celebration and a party for their birthday; he had family get-togethers that had everything to do with the season and nothing to with him. That joyous feeling that a birthday can bring because, for 24 hours, you are unique and special, was never his to enjoy. You could see the bitterness grow in him as the years went on.

Like all good fathers I'm hoping that the Zed's future is better than mine. This year he had birthday with his immediate family and in mid-January he's having a party with his friends. Maybe that will work for him, having two kicks at the birthday can -- one by birth, one by choice. That could be nice.

A little while ago Zed's brother awakened and he is sitting beside him right now. Both of them are playing on their DS, and I'm looking at them and silently smiling to myself.

Gee's birthday is March 3. He will be eleven. He will never received anything remotely like a combined birthday/Christmas present or have his birthday semi-forgotten in the rush of the season. He has no idea how fortunate he is.

But Zed at least has this going for him: years ago my wife and I decided that we didn't want him to be the youngest at home and the youngest at school. For the want of two days, it didn't make sense for him to face a scholarly lifetime of being the youngest and the smallest. So we registered him a year later than needed and he's now the oldest in his class. He loves school, he's empathetic and he's oh so very bright. (A couple of years later, Malcolm Gladwell published his book and suggested we were correct in our reasoning.)

My wife and I were smart enough to give him that opportunity. And hopefully that's a present that will work for him all of his life.

The rest he'll have to work through on his own.

1 comment:

  1. Sorry your birthday has become a bummer for you. We've got a friend who's a December 30th bbaby as well. Until a few years back she was pretty sour on the date of her birthday, until her boyfriend (now husband) went ahead and start making a big deal about it. Having a party, inviting people, reminding people. Now we'd never miss her birthday, and the people who do know what kind of friends they are. She's maybe 4 or 5 years younger than you, but it must be said--what worked for her could work for you.

    If you want to celebrate your birthday, make a point of celebrating your birthday. If you don't, then it's in your best interest to put that sadness and depression into your past and reconcile yourself to the fact that this isn't going to be an important day for you the way it is some people.

    Like Jehova's Witnesses.

    - Chris

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