Wanted: Birthday ATP

"Mommy, do you think you are going to feel good on my birthday?"

It's a hard question to answer. It teeters unreliably, on a pointy rock, in the wind. 

It is impossible to definitively plan for the future. I have to be honest about that. 

"I don't know, darling. But I'll probably be feeling a lot like how I've felt the last few weeks. Have you seen how slow I am until late afternoon comes?" I sheepishly ask. 

I apologize. I see her little chin fall a few degrees and the corners of her delicate doll lips dip. But that upper lip stays strong. 

She knows. 

She knows I can't be relied upon. My health is predictably unpredictable. Like on Saturday, when I finally had the get-up-and-go to hit the shower and get dressed in real clothes (the pants weren't even stretchy) so we could go to a museum. But then we didn't go because the shower made me crash and my husband came home late from work. I hated that I was wearing a belt while dozing off while I should be museum-ing with my kids, with or without my husband, because I committed to it. 

Disappointing Mom Award. 

For me, birthdays changed a few years ago, two days before my own birthday. I accidentally ate a salad dressed with vegetable oil (made of soybeans, if you didn't know). My intestines spasmed and cramped so badly that they felt as hard and big around as collarbones beneath my abs, zig zagging and imploding like nothing I have ever felt before. It was horrible. I'm allergic, but I didn't know how badly until then. I saw a GI doctor and had an emergency colonoscopy on my birthday. I admit it was a terrific nap (please pass the propofol?), but I was tired and under the influence the rest of the day. The indignity of bowel prep had kept me up the night before. Happy birthday, dork. 

As each of our birthdays circulated the following year, I noticed I lay through them, just getting up to serve cake in the evening. I was sick. It was so sad for me. I felt like the worst wife and mother ever. 

With subsequent years, the birthdays have lulled by at the speed of a snail, devoid of ATP energy because the matriarchal author of birthday celebrations around here has a deficient Krebs cycle and thus nothing to give on a mitochondrial level. 

When my babies were little, it didn't take much to make them feel like they owned the day from my pathetic prone-ness on the couch. Now, this little girl cares and has an impressionable memory. My worst fear is that she won't feel important, and that this feeling will stick with her. 

I keep trying to talk myself out of it. "You're doing your best," I say. "She knows you love her." "Snuggles fix everything." "Her presents will blow her mind." 

I find that hopeful voice being chastised my a more logical, injured complaint. "Listen, Self, the new bed set she's been asking for is not going to distract her from wanting to go to the indoor trampoline place. It's not going to change her mind about the seven-layer chocolate cake she wants (never mind that you've never seen one of these). You're deluded. Everyone needs to be at a party for her, or she won't feel important."

There, there Self. Wipe your tears. That's the way. 

(So mean.)

I remember the first form of discipline for babies: distraction. Maybe if I put shiny objects in noticeable places, they'll be more interesting than trampolines and a tower of cake. 

Like...a tower of crepes with Nutella between the as a cake, for example? Or a store-bought ice cream cake? (Note to self: price ice cream cakes tomorrow.)

Or...an afternoon outing to somewhere fun we've never been before?

It could be awesome. I just have to get creative. From the couch. And maybe ingest some "pep" (my code word for Dr. Pepper, which I keep on hand for dire emergencies like near-birthday-fails). 

Hopefully the rare, circumstantial joys she craves don't matter as much as the novelty of surprise and delight. Hopefully being spoiled with love feels more satisfying than being spoiled with stuff. Children are tough, resilient, and want to learn. Hopefully, even though I'm not good at birthdays, our daughter will get the birthday that holds the highest good for her. 

Wish me luck and plenty of natural ATP energy pep.