DOING BIRTHDAYS IN STYLE

Many years ago, my farmer husband explained to me in his typical stressed-out-about-harvest voice that if I had wanted parties to celebrate my birthday I should have known better than to be born in September.  I mean, this was a life-long handicap what with being both a farmer’s daughter and then choosing to be a farmer’s wife.  I really shouldn’t be surprised to have my birthday barely acknowledged between filling bins and fixing combines. 

I’m not, really.  This girl isn’t one of the high maintenance variety.  Besides, I have scored a few significant birthday memories over the years.  In 1982 he actually took a whole day off and we went to Brandon to pick out an engagement ring.  Looking back, having only known the man less than a year I can only say that this astonishingly atypical behavior was lost on me at the time.  The term ‘false advertising’ certainly applies.  

It’s too late to do anything about it now, though, I think the statute of limitations on that crime has run out.

I think it was the very next year, as a newly wed, that he gave me a blank I.O.U. to be redeemed after harvest.  He was probably thinking that meant taking me out for supper or some such easy thing.  Imagine his surprise when I called that debt in and insisted on a clothesline.  It was a whole day’s work and I never got another I.O.U. but it was so worth it.  I love my clothesline.

The years have rolled on by and luckily I have continued to have birthdays.  The kids got old enough to bake the cakes and make or buy the presents.  Like I said, I’m not high maintenance so it’s worked out okay.  He remembered to wish me a happy birthday without being prompted this year, so that’s something.  It’s a low bar but he aced it.  By that time he was on his 5^th or 6^th swather knife repair and more than a little on edge.  It’s all good.

This year other plans had been made.  2025 brings me to one of those significant ending-in-zero birthdays and the womenfolk of the family decided that this called for a spa weekend in Moose Jaw.  Who needs husband input when you can gather all the sisters and an assortment of nieces/daughters together for a two day spa visit?  As a bonus there was also one tiny grand daughter for us to all fuss over; she and her mom are kind of a package deal at the moment.  When the family is spread out from Calgary to Redvers there aren’t all that many opportunities to get together.  It was a great time.

We didn’t do anything fancy.  We talked about doing one of the Tunnels of Moose Jaw tours but never got around to it.  A few of us bought souvenirs as we wandered through the downtown shops, but nothing too much.  We treated ourselves to two lovely evening meals, enjoying the food and the atmosphere … and teased the sister who had “forgotten” her wallet mercilessly.  We spent time in the mineral waters pool – especially in the outdoor pool under the stars on a very warm prairie night, but no one took time for an actual spa treatment, we had too much visiting to do.

The best times by far, though, were sitting around our suite sharing a carafe of Tim Horton’s coffee with muffins and fruit and cheese, telling stories of our kids and grandkids, our gardens and animals, the holidays we had taken and the places we still dream of going. 

You know, the kind of things that womenfolk talk about.

We gifted stories from one generation to the next, honoring the mothers and sisters who are no longer with us. Hopefully the two month old baby was soaking it all in as she slept; there was a lot of familial ambience in that room.  She and her generation will be the ones who carry this magic forward.  

We told stories from long ago while making fresh memories for the next time we meet - which we should probably do sooner rather than later.  Those ending-in-zero birthdays get a little more serious as time goes by.  It’s not the zero that scares me anymore, it’s the number in front of the zero that is concerning.