This year, my birthday and Mother’s Day fell exactly one week apart. That’s a whole lot of celebrating in a short time and a whole lot of pressure on everyone to get along and have fun — all day, each day. Don’t get me wrong — I love to be celebrated. But my expectations for the day often get in the way of truly enjoying myself. With a few birthdays as a momma behind me, I knew that it was likely that Mattie’s needs would conflict with my best-laid plans, and, as such, my expectations were (mostly) realistically set.

I was surprised to find that for the first time since he was born, Mattie seemed to really understand that my birthday was supposed to be about celebrating me. Previously, Ken spent a lot of effort trying to explain to him that it was supposed to be a special day for momma — coaxing him to participate in making or signing a card, cajoling him into going along with whatever I wanted to do that day, mostly to no avail. But at 4 and 2/3 years old, Mattie is developmentally less self-centered and more able to consider others.

Most significantly, he is beginning to recognize me, specifically, as separate from himself.

So, on both Mother’s Day and my birthday this year, Mattie genuinely wanted to celebrate me and do special things for me on — at least for the first hour or so of the day.

What follows is a glimpse into our lives on each of these days this year.

On my birthday we woke up and had sweet snuggle time in bed. Ken reminded Mattie about what day it was and they both showered me with birthday love. I tiptoed away to the bathroom while the two of them whispered to one another, plotting something instigated by Mattie. I returned to a grinning boy holding out a tiny gift bag.  Inside was one of my own old dangly earrings, plucked from my drawer and wrapped up just for me.  I put it on and Mattie told me that I looked “gorgeous“.

So. Stinking. Sweet.

Then, as we were getting dressed, he surprised me again by saying, “Momma, you don’t have to pick out my clothes today, because it’s your birthday!“. He then proceeded to pick out his own clothes and dress himself.  I was touched by his thoughtfulness and the awareness it represented.  (I also noticed that despite his daily demands to help him with this task, he is actually completely capable of doing it by himself).

When we got downstairs he raced to give me a card he’d made with “HAPPY BIRTHDAY MAMA!!!! LOVE, MATTIE” written on it his big, blocky, beautiful penmanship. He had only recently learned about exclamation points and this is the first time I’ve seen him use four in a row for anything. I swooned, appreciating every stroke, knowing full well the concentration and effort he put into birthing this creation just for me.

(The yellow star was also his idea. It’s something I’ve never seen him draw before, but he thought I’d like it. And I do. Love it. Recently he said to me: “I think that babies choose which mama they want. Like when they’re still up in the stars?” I’m so glad he chose me.)

When Ken gave me my gifts, he also brilliantly gave Mattie a present — a small green Lego set.  Mattie was delighted and built Lego creations happily, chattering constantly while he worked, while Ken and I enjoyed lounging in my new birthday Adirondack chairs, drinking our coffee in the sunshine.

Pretty, aren’t they?!

Then we went out to brunch and to a family food festival with music and kids activities, which was all pretty fun for Mattie.

It wasn’t until early afternoon that he started asking every 5 minutes (I kid you not), “When is it going to be MY birthday?” He was starting to get tired, and frankly, I was surprised that it had taken this long for him to shift the focus onto himself.

But it gets better, (or worse?).

Post-festival, we went to a coffee shop to get my favorite Ethiopian coffee. Mattie got chocolate milk and we all shared a scone. He wanted a cookie also, but in light of the fact that birthday cake was coming later, I sensibly denied his request. He responded by wailing, “This is the worst day EVER!” (If Mattie were writing this story, he probably would have punctuated that statement with at least four exclamation points).

He continued to remind us that it was the worst day ever for the remainder of our stay at the coffee shop, throughout our walk back to the car, and all the way home to the other side of town.

I had to hide a smile, though, almost relieved that he was finally expressing such dissatisfaction. It’s not easy to celebrate someone else all day long.

*****

A similar scene unfolded on Mother’s Day. Mattie gave me a beautiful homemade card — this one decorated with a drawing of a sewer.  I’m not sure where that came from, but it felt somehow…fitting.  He was genuinely and enthusiastically pleased with it.

(I especially love the choice of sparkly paper).

Then we enjoyed a yummy pancake breakfast made by Ken. But before we had even finished eating our breakfast, Mattie started demanding jelly beans. (Admittedly, we’d gotten into a habit of counting out leftover Easter jelly beans after breakfast some mornings. Mattie is incredibly treat-motivated and I was using it as an opportunity to teach him some math skills. It worked — the boy can now count to at least 15, no problem!)

On this particular morning, however, I wasn’t up for it. He’d just eaten pancakes with syrup and I (reasonably?) thought that was enough sugar to start the day. When I told him so, it was immediately clear that my explanation was NOT going to be satisfactory. He exploded, saying, “Then you’re not ever going to be my momma again!! You’re the worst person in the world!” (Again, he would probably use more exclamation points.)

He stomped around miserably for a good, long time, telling me over and over again that I was the worst person in the world. On Mother’s Day. It was pretty comical, really.

Finally, tiring of the momma-bashing, I tried adding more details to my case against the jelly beans. I explained that there was going to be a family party later in the day with more sweet treats.

He looked at me thoughtfully, reasonably even, and said, “Oh. So there’s a reason you’re saying no? Like because I’m going to get a lot of treats later? Oh…okay.”

And that was the end of it. A reasonable explanation can sometimes work wonders with these little humans. It’s just that you can’t ever predict whether or not they will determine it to be reasonable enough. That day, I got lucky.

Yes, that is a whipped cream “shot” at a celebration.  Pure heaven for this boy!

All joking aside, I have to say that Mattie’s selfish outbursts provide me with a peculiar sense of comfort. While I welcome his increasing awareness and independence, I also want him to be the very little boy that he is, regardless of the day.

The “me” a year or two or three ago may not have had that insight, just longing for my own selfish birthday desires to come true. But I’m another year wiser and this momma is getting better at understanding the needs of her boy, too.

These years of Mattie being a little boy aren’t going to last forever and I don’t want him to grow up any faster than he needs to.

**********

A few nights after my birthday, just before falling asleep, Mattie said to me, “Momma, I fell in love with you right away when I was born”.  He’s heard me say something similar to him often, but to hear it turned on me, well, it took my breath away.

I think that it’s these everyday, unexpected celebrations of me that I treasure most. There’s nothing forced about it. No pressure.  It’s just the love I’ve poured in overflowing and spilling over back onto me — combined with the beautiful, amazing, loving spirit of this boy who is his own person, totally separate from me.