My Name is Mommy

Why is it that I insisted on telling the waiter that it was Luke’s birthday and that they could all gather ’round and sing to him? ‘Cause I’m stupid. Even after Bald Man said not to b/c Luke wouldn’t like it, I still told the guy. And you know what? Luke turned his head down and cried. CRIED!! One of the waitresses stopped singing and was all, “I can’t keep making him cry.” She had more compassion for my child than I did.

And the real reason that I asked them to recognize his birthday? Because I hadn’t made a cake. And there were no candles. One of my children had a birthday and I made no cake, bought no cake, and had no candles for him to blow out. So, obviously, if you’re not going to bake a cake, the next best thing is to make your child cry.

Yeah, he had a cake the night before at Titi’s. With candles. That he blew out (or his brother did, I really don’t remember). But that wasn’t good enough! I should have made a cake that would be his exactly three years to the day (or plus one, Leap Day and that) of his birth!!!! I failed.

Yes, I have issues. And, depending on who you are, it’s either that I have a high guilt complex or that I really am a bad mother. You choose.

The funny thing is that, apparently, Luke thought those crazy servers were just sadistic child-torturers. Because the waiter came by with the check and was all, “I’m sorry we scared you little buddy. We didn’t mean to. Happy Birthday.”

And Luke looked at me and was all, “He didn’t mean to scare me.” And was totally relieved. Good thing he doesn’t know that I was the one who set him up to be terrorized in the first place.