Celebrating Birthing Day

Tomorrow is my birthday. I was born in 1954, you do the math.
The other day I was thinking about my birthday and when I was born. I thought about my mother and wondered what it must feel like to have three children all over fifty. But there is a lot about being 83 like my mom that I can’t imagine.


I started thinking about the day I was born. I am told it snowed; I know it was a Friday.
But more than that I began thinking my birthday is really for her to celebrate too. It is her birthing day. The first of three she would have in her life. She seemed to like Friday’s for her birthing  too,  because all three of us were born on a Friday.

From there I started thinking about the grace and ease my mother exudes on a daily basis. In the face of challenge she is always as calm and graceful as a person can possibly be. Now I am not talking about The Emily Post etiquette book kind of stuffiness grace, I am talking about how she doesn’t seem to let things ruffle her feathers. She takes whatever comes her way with grace and ease.

This is quite the contrast from me who tends to take things a great deal of emotion and excitement. (I blame my Mars in Scorpio.) I am often an emotional bomb when the plumbing leaks or anything goes wrong. Then I call mom to cry, scream and vent it all out over the phone. I’m sure she must be thinking, “Here we go again.” or “When is this girl going to get it together?” But she just listens quietly and lets me roll on. Then she starts asking the questions that help direct both of us to a solution.

Thinking back on my life, I cannot remember one time my mom getting really ruffled. When I was 16 but didn’t yet have my driver’s license, I wrecked a car. Not only did I wreck it, I rolled it down a hill with my younger brother and sister with me. When mom got home from choir that night, she checked to make sure all her kids were OK, the laughed and said “ Did you know the car was yours?”. Many years later when I told her I was moving across country she didn’t bat an eye. Even when she has reason to be upset she doesn’t curse and scream like most people. She is always calm. I keep expecting the explosion and it never seems to come.

Mom is a great example. I aspire to be like her one day. I am not sure I will ever get there but I can always hope!


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