Big birthdays should be celebrated all month. Hell, maybe all year. I was privileged to be able to attend two celebrations in the last couple of weeks, and both parties made the birthday girls very happy. And a tad tipsy (and I wasn’t even making the drinks).

She was also totally unaware and completely astonished at a product called Silly String, in which her grandchildren mummified her.

Our friend Jeanne turned 80 on April 24th, and celebrated on the day with a Mexican lunch at Frontera Grill. I was the baby of the group of six lively women of varying ages, and each of us toasted Jeanne, with mini sombreros on our heads and margaritas in hand. That was her warm up party, as her kids threw her a surprise party the following Sunday. She was totally unaware and completely astonished. She was also totally unaware and completely astonished at a product called Silly String, in which her grandchildren mummified her.

JEANNE'S 80th

She told me the next day at Mass she couldn’t concentrate; she thanked God for her party but every time she tried to pay attention she kept thinking about her wonderful party and all the great things that had happened at it. I told her I thought God would be good with that.

The second party was a tad more challenging. How do you keep someone you’re very close to, who has keys to your house and who you share pretty much everything with from knowing you’re helping her husband throw her a surprise 60th birthday party? Especially when Anita, herself, is very sneaky? I tried avoidance as much as possible. I came up with grand excuses should she run into me at the grocery store with 8 pounds of confectioners sugar, 8 pounds each of cream cheese and butter and a 5 pound bag of carrots in my shopping cart. “That wedding I’m catering in September? Yeah, I’m making the cake now, they freeze beautifully.” Thankfully she didn’t run into me anywhere, so I didn’t have to lie or abandon my groceries.

My biggest fear was having her wander into my basement for an empty box or to put something in the fridge, which she almost did with Jeanne’s birthday cake (which we gave her at her Mexican restaurant lunch). All of the decorations were laid out in the basement, including a 20’ x 30’ poster of her fourth birthday party. I ran interference every time she got close to my back steps.

We tried to throw her off by giving her our usual Saturday morning breakfast club birthday celebration: a muffin with a candle in it and funny cards. I also had invited her to dinner the day after to celebrate, so the night of her party she thought she and Mike were just going to dinner with friends. So when she showed up in the basement of our local biker/cop dive, Knuckleheads (their motto is “everybody knows one”) thinking it was their overflow bar, she, like Jeanne, was totally unaware and completely astonished.

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She was way too excited to eat, so she imbibed her way through the crowd of 60 for her 60th, and we all wondered if she would make it to 8 o’clock Mass in the morning. She did. And to my house for a clam boil that night, looking none too worse for the wear.

Birthdays are important. Some people say they don’t want a party, they don’t need a cake, nobody has to sing. I say shut up. If someone loves you enough to want to celebrate the day you were born then let ‘em. And for once, it’s OK that it’s all about YOU.

Happy Birthday To All Of Us! All Year, Every Day!

Deborah