’Wise words from my mom, the Birthday Girl’

I just love birthday parties. Especially when they are somebody else’s. In my personal opinion, birthday parties are just absolutely the best. (Weddings are a close second — or, hey, maybe even a tie.) With both, you get to celebrate a happy event, see a ton of friends and relatives — then you get to eat cake and make a bubbly toast.

This particular birthday was my mother’s (gasp) 90th, and we got to eat cake twice — while making multiple bubbly toasts. The first time was on her real, actual birthday last Wednesday, October 9. (The way-cool picture at the top of this post featuring my Two Favorite Women in All the World is from that happy occasion.) And we got to do it all over again on the weekend at a big Open House we held for family and friends.

Zillions of friends and ka-jillions of relations prepare to eat mucho cake and sip major bubbly

In case you’re wondering, my mom won’t mind me giving away her age. Not this time, anyway. She used to quail at being asked, “How old are you?” She, like me, was brought up to consider this an incredibly rude question, but you’d be surprised how many people — people who do not work for the DMV or even the Social Security Administration — ask it.

My mom used to answer Rude Age-Asking People by counter-asking, “Why do you want to know?” Which worked. Sometimes. For tips and pointers my Mom taught me on how to handle awkward questions, see my story titled, (naturally) “Why do you want to know?”

But when she turned 80, she decided to throw in the age-question towel and embrace those who asked this question (maybe not literally, but figuratively). She said giving the answer freely was actually quite liberating. “Okay” was my reply. But I think I’ll wait to experience that form of liberation for at least a few more years.

My mom was nowhere near 80 in this photo. So you can bet darn tootin’ she wouldn’t take kindly to being asked her age. Come to think of it, neither would my Gramma P, pictured in the foreground

But back to the party. My Oldest Younger Brother Scott and Favorite Sister Laura were the masterminds. Scott found the venue (in the Midwest, which made it equally easy to get to for everyone — or equally difficult, depending on how you choose to look at it) and Laura transported Mom there. The rest of us all had our assigned tasks, and we were one well-oiled Family Party-Making Machine.

Making deviled eggs was one of the tasks. Best Bro-in-Law-on-the-Planet Dave made the filling; Clever Nobody-Doesn’t-Like-Jenn piped it in with a pastry piper she fashioned from a ziploc bag

We made several Walmart Runs to prep for this party. Partly because we needed stuff and Walmart has everything. And partly because going on a Walmart Run is actually rather perversely fun. (See “Who wants to go on a Walmart Run?” for tantalizing details.) I know The Child asked special to ride along with Jenn and didn’t even change out of her running duds in order not to miss her chance.

The Birthday Cake came from Walmart, natch. Also those spiffy candles. And the plates and the cups and the napkins and the drinks…probably even that lighter thingie

But the best part of the party? The partiers. We had cousins. We had neighbors. We had nieces and nephews and even a sibling. We even had some Blog Readers. My daughter walked into the crowded Party Room and several people shouted, “Look! There’s The Child!” (Well, they were family. But still; I was thrilled. Not sure how Her Childness felt about it.)

A coupla Henry Clan nieces light up the party. Hi Nancy and Jill!

Some of the Peterson Contingent entertain Scott

We even had a Bestie. (Hi Ruth!) With her daughter-in-law Ann and me in the middle

A bevy of beauties (including Her Childness on the right) — with a handsome Son of Bestie thrown in for good measure

Anderson Girls! (And a couple of Henry cousins too) watch as Mom prepares to blow out the candles and makes her little speech

Which brings me to the end of this story and the title of this piece. Before Mom blew out her candles she made a little speech. Which went something like this: It seems there was this optimist who fell out of the window of a 90-story building. On his way down he shouted, “So far, so good!” Mom said that was how she felt about turning 90: So far, so good.

Yup. The Best Mom on the Planet turned 90 last week, and 90 she’ll remain. At least until next October when, with any luck, she’ll be 91. 

New York City. October 2019