My Parents Have No Idea When My Birthday Is

When planning out my birthday week, which ended up going horribly awry nine different ways from Sunday, I had plans on my actual birthday in the evening with my parents for dinner and birthday cake.  We discussed it the week before, and everything was all set and good to go.

Until

I spoke with my mom Tuesday last week, and she said everything was all set for Thursday. 

Me:  but… my birthday’s on Friday.
Mom:  what?  No, everything is set for Thursday.
Me:  ok… but that’s the day before my birthday.  And I have plans that night.
Mom:  but I told the cake people we’d pick the cake up on Thursday.  We’re going out of town on Friday morning.
Me:  ok.  Well.  Friday is my birthday.  I knew you didn’t know what year I was born in, but really? The day now, too?
Mom:  I know when your birthday is.  I just thought Thursday was the 20^th.

This delayed birthday celebrations until today.  (In an amazing twist of fate, my plans for Thursday fell through, but that’s neither here nor there.)  We went out to dinner, and then returned to my parents’ house for birthday cake.  Birthday cake is by far the best part of the birthday celebration.  Not because cake in general is delicious, but because of a tradition that randomly got started many years ago.  I get a child’s themed birthday cake every year.  The rules are simple.  No repeated themes (this was lost on my mom one year, and she requested the exact same cake 2 yrs in a row), and there must be some kind of keepsake toy (this, too, was not followed one year).  The theme is always a surprise, and I eagerly await learning what it is.  In the past, I’ve had Blues Clues, Care Bears, Cars (technically, Cars 2), Happy Feet, My Little Pony (twice), Barbie (the year of no keepsake toy), and Finding Nemo.  Finding Nemo was last year, and I was a little concerned my mom wouldn’t be able to top that.  Then I saw this year’s.

ANGRY BIRDS.

Amazing.  There was a catapult, a red bird, a yellow bird, and a stand up structure with some pigs.  Too awesome.

So, even though they weren’t sure when my birthday actually was, they got major bonus points for the cake, and it was worth the wait.

Side Story:  I meant what I said to my mom about her not knowing what year I was born.  She legit doesn’t… or at least didn’t for a fairly lengthy period of time.  When I was a senior in high school, she filled out a credit card application for me to get a card in case of emergencies, and to use when I got to UVA.  She put the wrong birth year on that application, which made it difficult for me to communicate with the credit card company, as I always had trouble verifying my birthday when trying to prove I was really me on the phone. Ya know, because I kept telling them my actual year of birth, which didn’t match their records.  She aged me by 2 years.  Not awesome, mom.  This year, when putting candles on the cake, she shorted me some.  This mistake is much more preferred, although still.  Come on.  Really?