Mom’s Special Day

I called my mom on her birthday. I was really good this year – I called her by 8:30 in the morning. Maybe she decided to sleep in though because she didn’t answer her phone.

I was sitting at my desk at work and as I listened to her voicemail recording, I quickly tried to decide whether to leave a message and, if so, what to say. In my heart of hearts I knew what I had to do.

Quietly, I sang “Happy Birthday to you…” I almost lapsed into childhood with “you live in a zoo…” but even though I was singing very softly so as not to be overheard by any co-workers, I went the safe route. “… Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Mommmmmeeee, Happy Birthday to you!”

I then explained that I sang it softly because I was at work but that I hoped she had a good birthday and I hoped she’d give me a call back. I had just settled into reading my email when a co-worker poked her head into my office.

“Were you just singing happy birthday?” she asked, sounding puzzled.

I turned a little pink. So much for singing softly.

The day zoomed by with work and church and dinner and basketball practice and laundry and first grade homework and book reading. About 9:15, my husband said something about talking to his dad.

“I better try to call mom again,” I said.

Again, she didn’t answer her phone.

“I just want you to know that it’s not my fault I didn’t talk to you on your birthday,” I said to her voicemail. “I’ve tried twice now.”

After awhile, I began to worry. Not a lot – surely her boyfriend or mother or sister or other sister or someone would have called me if something was wrong. But still, maybe better safe than sorry.

So I sent my brother a text.

“Have you talked to mom today?” I asked.

“No, should I?” he responded.

“Really, Aaron?”

“I don’t talk to her everyday,” he said, adding “What’s going on?” before I could reply.

“Neither do I but I try to make it a habit to call her on her birthday.”

“Shit”

He later tried to tell me that he’d been playing referee with his kids all day after schools were cancelled.

“Excuses excuses,” I said.

“Hey, you haven’t talked to her either”

Ahhhh, dear brother… but I tried. At least I tried. And remembered. TWICE! I ought to get bonus points for that!

Of course, while I was blogging about this, he probably called and she probably answered. Or maybe he sent her a text and when I send mine in a few minutes, it’ll look like he came first. Not that I’m competitive with my brother, mind you. I just want credit where credit is due.

Well, and to talk to my mommy. I kinda like the lady.

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