Sheryl and Sons

Sheryl and Sons
I told you they were big.

Tuesday, January 31, 2012

The Best Ever

It's a few minutes before midnight, and I'm waiting to be the first one to wish my son a happy twentieth birthday on his Facebook page.  I don't want to write anything that would embarrass him in front of his 1345 Facebook friends, so after erasing several sentiments, I settle on, "Hope you have a great birthday!"  I can't fathom what is humiliating about that but I'm prepared to find out.

My husband and I drove him to college yesterday, and in all of the tumult of packing, traveling and moving in, I forgot to arrange for a birthday cake.  Not that his birthday has gone unremembered by us--the night before he left we had a farewell birthday dinner at his favorite restaurant with grandparents and friends. Candles were blown out, cake was consumed, and presents were exchanged.  My husband feels that this birthday has been sufficiently celebrated, but I've always made a fuss for my boys on their actual birth date.  As the one who gave birth, it always felt like my job.

Around noon, when I imagine my son is finally awake, I call and sing him the happy birthday song.  I apologize for not doing more, and he tells me not to worry, that he and his roommates will be having a party in his new apartment to celebrate.

The next day I call to hear about the party.  I apologize again but my son is eager to alleviate my guilt.

He says, "Don't sweat it Mom, the party was great!"

"That's terrific, Sweetheart," I say, "I'm so glad."

"Really Mom," he continues, "it was my best birthday party ever!"

I am silent.

"Mom?" he asks, thinking our cell phones have dropped the call, "Are you still there?"

"I'm still here," I reply, in a slightly higher octave.

My son knows that voice, and he is trying to figure out what he has said to bring it on.  He was only trying to reassure me.

"The party was great," he continues, "there must have been at least.  . .

"I heard you.  You said it was 'The Best Birthday Party Ever.'"

Now he is silent.

"Really," I say, a statement more than a question.  "The Best Ever."

I can almost see him rolling his eyes but I can't help myself.

"Mom," he begins.

"No, I'm just curious.  Was it better than the pirate party when you turned six?  Remember how I planted clues all over the neighborhood in the pouring rain for the treasure hunt?  And all the boys wore eye patches with their names on them?  We had a cake from the bakery in the shape of a pirate ship. I couldn't figure out how to cut it."

There is no answer.

"What about the sports party in the park?  I tried to rent the play field but the Park District didn't take reservations, so I parked your brother out there in a lawn chair to save the baseball diamond.  Everyone got their own McDonald's Happy Meal for lunch, and by mistake they gave some of the boys a princess toy.  I baked two cakes, one chocolate with white frosting and the Bulls' logo, and one yellow cake with fudge frosting with the Cubs' logo."

Silence again.

"How about the Chuckie Cheese party?  That redheaded boy from your kindergarten class lost his shoe in the ball pit and Dad had to go in there.  Then a big mouse came over to sing Happy Birthday and worked you boys into a frenzy.  You all started smashing that cheap sheet cake into each other's faces."

"I forgot about that," my son sighs.  "I had frosting in my eyelashes.  That was awesome."

I take a breath.  "Thank you, Sweetie.  I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Mom.  I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.  Those parties were terrific."

I'm ready to forgive.  "So tell me, what was so great about last night?"

"Well," my son says thoughtfully, "there were a lot of cute girls."

I smile.  I know he is smiling too.

"And another thing, Mom--and don't take this the wrong way--but I think your parties would have been better if you'd served alcohol."

I smile.  "I did serve alcohol at those parties," I confess, "just not to you."

My son and I laugh for a minute, then we each say, "I love you" before we hang up.  I shake my head as I often do these days, realizing that he has crept another inch toward adulthood, and the only one stuck in his childhood is me.  It's time for me to let it go and move on.

The party is over.

7 comments:

jil said...

Sheryl - You are amazing. But we already knew that!!!!xx
Jil

HeidiLevy said...

Wow, what good memories you share with your son!
My children usually ended up under the bed or throwing up in the bathroom from all the excitement I foisted upon them, trying to give them the birthday party extravaganzas I didn't have as a child.
But I eventually grew up, too.
Now I tell young mothers that parenting is a careful progression of learning how to let go - and most of us moms are never ready!

Sheryl Cohen Solomon said...

Isn't that the truth! Thanks so much for your comments.

Kim S. said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Kim S. said...

Hi Sheryl,
I just celebrated my son's 3 year birthday and my mom (Judy Siegal) forwarded me this post. It's simply wonderful. I literally have tears in my eyes and a smile on my face. So bittersweet and honest. I can't even imagine my son at 20, but I hope we will have the relationship you two seem to have. Looking forward to reading more!

Sheryl Cohen Solomon said...

Oh Kim, I can't imagine a more wonderful response. Thank you so much!

Lilac Wolf (Angie or Angela) said...

I have 2 boys, 6 and 3...and now I'm crying. lol