I only remember making a big deal about Mom's birthday once in my life - 20 years ago, when I was 5 and she was turning 30. We got some cake pans and cake decorations, and Dad had a big plan to bake mom a cake at the neighbors house, and then Abigail and I ruined his secret. We also got some apple scented lotion that my mom ended up not liking, but my dad really liked the scent.
Another year it snowed on Mom's birthday (I was about 10, I guess, based on the kids in the photos from that day). We celebrated Mom's birthday by taking some family snow photos, but that was mostly it.
Usually my Dad got my mom something like pajamas or a bathrobe for her birthday, and occasionally we kids give her cards, but mostly it passes by and we celebrate later with Chinese dimsum closer to Christmas. It's still fun, and it's a big family event, but it's hard to remember it's tied to my Mom's birthday.
It's hard to tell my mom I love her. She's not big on any of the love languages - physical touch isn't really how she operates (most Asian people don't do this one). Gifts of affirmation she appreciates, but I don't know if I've ever seen her use one of the gifts I've given her. Quality time alone with just mom is hard - and even when I call home, she usually passes the phone to dad. Acts of service she appreciates most, but now that I'm in my own home, whenever I try to serve her by doing dishes or something, she tells me to relax and she'll get it later. Words of Affirmation is my primary love language, but I don't use it to communicate with my mom - it's like the physical touch thing, we just don't say it out loud. Not saying this to fault my mom, just explaining why we never made that big a deal about her birthday.
So I'm saying it now. My mom's fantastic. She has the best advice of anyone I've ever met. If I can be half as good of a wife to my husband as my mom is at supporting, encouraging, but also challenging my dad, I'll feel accomplished. If I can raise a child even one ninth as patiently and graciously as my mom has managed to raise nine kids, I'll be doing well.
When I was a kid and I was mad at my sisters or my dad (which happened a lot), my mom always managed to point me to the gospel. She was always gentle but firm in pointing me towards forgiving the person I was mad at. Always. sometimes it was infuriating because I just wanted to wallow in my anger, and she never let me.
When my mom had her wisdom teeth extracted, I flipped out, and my mom, even though she was getting over mouth surgery, read out loud to me to calm me down. When my sister Charissa was born, I got into a funk about things, and my mom sent me a note she wrote on a paper towel from the hospital via Dad mail to get me back into the right head space (a faded ink note that's still taped into my old journal). I always knew my mom loved me, and when I needed it, she showed it more than other times.
So I hope that today, on her birthday, my mom knows that it goes back to her. That I love her, and respect her, and hope I can be more like her as I continue to grow up. Happy Birthday, Mama.
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