The Big Babies’ Birthday Club
My birthday is September 21st. Write it down.
No, really. Write it down. I’ll wait.
I suppose I understand that everyone attaches a different level of importance to birthdays. What I don’t understand is why. It’s the day that you took your very first breath. It’s the day that the world was irreversibly changed. And to quote one of my favorite former 2nd graders as he marched through the bussing door at Hillcrest Elementary on the morning of his 7th birthday, “Finally! A day all about ME!” I couldn’t have said it better myself, kid.
All of my life I have inwardly bristled at birthday wishes that were delivered several days late. For the record, the good wishes window closes at 11:59 p.m. If you missed it, do not insult me with a casual “Oh, happy belated birthday!” Just because Hallmark made it a thing doesn’t make it a thing. Admit it. You missed it. Just apologize with as much sincerity as if you spilled hot coffee on me and we’re good.
After years of mentally placing people on one of two lists – the ‘well-wishers’ and the ‘I can’t be bothereds’ – I’ve come to the conclusion that those of us who prioritize birthdays should stop wasting our energy on those of us who do not. I used to think that I was alone in how I felt about the significance I’d always placed on that one day. I used to chide myself for being a big baby and for feeling slighted when the day would come and go with no recognition from people who I thought of as close friends. But I am hardly alone. There are legions of us, silently grinding our back teeth at seemingly innocent remarks such as “Hey, you had a birthday last week, didn’t you?” We smile politely, but we are mentally erasing your birthday from our perpetual calendar and counting the minutes until we get home and can erase it permanently.
I realize that on the surface this sort of attitude makes me seem high maintenance but, actually, the exact opposite is true. 364 days a year I expect nothing.
My $20 coupon expired yesterday and you don’t make exceptions? I completely understand.
You didn’t notice that I was right behind you and let the door hit me in the head? No problem, I should have been more careful.
The traffic light has been green for several seconds now and you’re still sitting there? I can wait patiently without blasting the horn in a way that says “Hey, stupid! Pay attention!”
If someone ruins your day today, I can guarantee you that it will not be me. 364 days a year, I am unfailingly kind. I have made a career out of continually putting everyone else’s happiness before my own, acquiescing over the smallest things so as not to disappoint anyone. I’m the sort of person who hangs around in the grocery store aisle whenever I see a short person looking up at a high shelf, hoping that I can be of service. It’s important to note that I do not work at a grocery store. I’m the woman you’ve seen darting between cars and chasing down some random child’s balloon as it flies through the parking lot. I’m the one apologizing to the UPS driver for the 40 lb. package, insisting that I can carry it up to the house even though I’m at least 20 years older than they are. 364 days of putting everyone else first.
One day. That’s all I want. So, starting today, I am owning it. I am no longer pretending that my birthday doesn’t matter. In fact, January seems like the perfect time to gather us like-minded folks together in pursuit of a common goal – the establishment of The Big Babies’ Birthday Club. Persons seeking membership will need a perpetual calendar, a sharp pencil, a stash of birthday cards, and postage stamps. Alternately, a working phone is acceptable if you prefer to send greetings via phone calls or texts. Emails are also welcome.
The BBBC bylaws are straightforward and simple:
Don’t miss our birth day.
We aren’t expecting elaborate cakes, elegantly wrapped gifts, or harmonized versions of The Happy Birthday song. Mostly you just need you to get the day right. Perks of membership include, but are not limited to, a new group of people who will actually pay attention to their perpetual calendars because, like you, they know that birthdays are symbolic. They also understand that life can get busy and that emergencies arise. It doesn’t matter. Everyone is busy and we all have problems. It’s one day. One. Day.
It’s important to realize, however, that being human means that we occasionally make mistakes. Should the unthinkable happen and you wake up to realize that a fellow club member’s birthday has, in fact, been missed, one of the following attempts at reparation are suggested:
A. An in-person, Oscar-worthy apology for having missed their ONE day
B. Wearing black for the rest of the month to express your genuine sorrow at having missed their ONE day
Under no circumstances should a BBBC member make excuses or make light of having forgotten. Likewise, do not wish a fellow member a Happy Belated Birthday. It goes without saying that it translates to ‘this is how little you matter’. Such an offense will be reason for dismissal from the BBBC, and you will be back to getting wished a happy birthday whenever. A bleak outcome, but it’s in everyone’s best interest.
The BBBC is definitely not for everyone. Those of you who see actual birthdays as being interchangeable with any other day on the calendar should not apply for membership. It’s not that we can’t be friends. Of course we can be friends. If you’re sick, we’ll bring you homemade soup and your favorite magazine. If you need a ride to the airport, we’re happy to give you a lift. We’ll even smile and not mention that we’ve already heard the story you’re telling us. We just can’t be birthday friends.