Happy Birthday, Mum

Happy birthday (I didn’t get you anything either). I love you so much (even as I sit here planning my revenge for all the pranks you’ve played on me). You age gracefully with each passing year, like fine wine (you also seem to get shorter than me every day and I’ll keep hugging you to remind you). It’s amazing how on your birthday I feel like I’m the one getting a gift. You are by far the greatest thing that has ever happened to me (I had a debate in my head and it was almost a tie between you and Breaking Bad). These are just a few of the reasons why I believe so:
You always comfort me in times of trouble and when I’m in pain (the first time I dislocated my shoulder you thought it was funny how one arm was longer than the other). I feel like you are the one person I can fully trust with everything (just not my laptop. Don’t touch my laptop), including my life. It is for this reason that I never have to hide anything from you (I blocked you on Facebook). And you reciprocate by not keeping anything from us (I didn’t know your full name until I was 20). I also never have to lie to you (you studied psychology so I literally can’t) because honesty is one of the things that keeps our bond strong. Your narration is very excellent. You have the ability to tell a story like nobody else (and I still don’t understand why I fall asleep when you start talking about what happened at the family reunions I missed). Likewise, you’re a good listener (you have a habit of breaking into laughter/song every time I’m trying to tell you something and interrupting my thoughts). I have always loved how we share mundane details of how the day was (except that time you waited almost a full year before you told me you had an interview on TV).
I love how progressive you are, and how eagerly you keep up with the times (we’re still trying to find out how you know about Tupac and Batman). This helps you connect well with us and people of our age, even younger (now please stop telling them what I was like when I was their age). Your wisdom is impeccable. Your advice is always remarkably helpful and your input is always valued (except when you talk during movies).
Your parenting skills are simply above reproach (you didn’t drop me as a baby. I guess you get points for that). You love all of us the same, you have never shown favoritism (except that time you took my sister’s side in a fight we had). As a disciplinarian, you have proven your ability (the pain!). I love every beating I ever received from you (not really), no matter how small or how big (you could have achieved the same results by holding back on some of the big). You always make time for us whenever we need you (unless you’re reading a book or watching soap operas, then we’re just distracting you). You were instrumental in helping me have a good relationship with my siblings because you taught us values that assist us in co-existing, such as sharing (but you’re a hypocrite who gave all the genes for the good skin tone to my sister. You couldn’t have split that in half for us to have in equal parts?). You love spending time with us, which is something I have always been thankful for (you say you like spending time with us, but in high school you sent me to a boarding school that was far away so I’d stop running away to come home. Clever move, but you have to make up your mind. Do you like us around or not? There are no in-betweens).
As your son, I know how much you want nothing but the best for me, and stop at nothing to ensure I have it (except when you didn’t fight hard enough to have me named Rob Zombie or Ving Rhames or Spike Lee. Kevin? Really? I know it was the 90s, but still. I will never let this go). I feel horrible for all the times I have failed you (read: “every single time I have tried to cook”). I promise to make it up to you one day (I’ll pay you back for the paint from that time I set part of the kitchen on fire). I also promise to do everything to make you as proud of me as I am of you (I can go for a very long time without sleep. I hope that makes you proud because otherwise, I’ve got nothing).
As I said, you are aging gracefully (I will poke fun at your first wrinkle as soon as it pops up and if you don’t get one soon enough, I’ll just wait until you eventually turn 50 so I can make these awesome jokes I have lined up). This, as I have observed, you have achieved through a healthy diet that you have strongly adhered to, which is commendable (do not try to get me to eat vegetables with you unless they are accompanied by ice cream). You also keep away from stress by remaining relaxed, calm and collected at all times (let’s keep it that way. Don’t ask about my grades in school).
I will take every chance to prove to you and everybody else how much I love you (I have never liked/shared those “if you love your mother like/share this” posts. So the people watching me ignore those probably think I hate you). I will do my best to ensure that you know about the most important things happening in my life so you can be more involved (ha! You will never know about anybody I’m dating).
You should know that my love for you is unconditional and will never fail for anything (although you keep testing me when you give me chores every time you see me).
Happy birthday.

* * *
Side note: Mum’s birthday was yesterday, but I couldn’t bring myself to post about anything else today because she is more important than everything else I could have written about (I was going to write something about the BET Awards, but she was hogging the TV so much I didn’t have enough content. That was probably a calculated move to get me to post about her birthday. Genius).

20 thoughts on “Happy Birthday, Mum

  1. Your advice is always
    remarkably helpful and your input is
    always valued (except when you talk
    during movies). :-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D

    i trust you with everything including my life but excluding my laptop :-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D:-D

    so many quotables :-D:-D:-D ..your best so far. :’-D almost impressed

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thank you

      too much? You really think so? I didn’t have as many when I started, and at the time it seemed like I was gushing emotion. At first I was okay with it, but then I missed Kendrick Lamar’s performance at the BET Awards, and I decided to just run with the brackets after each sentence. Except one.
      Hope you understand now

      Liked by 1 person

  2. uuuuuuh Kevin, I envy your mum rhy now .. such a good article. oh I hope Tabby read that part abt the good skin…n give a rest already to your name!! Kevinnnnnnnnnnn..hahaaaaaa.*evillaugh*


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