Have you noticed how every family has a horror month for
birthdays? There’s always a month on the
calendar where birthdays cluster like tween girls around a One Direction
poster, and no matter how well you try to prepare, the sheer magnitude of the
significant dates overwhelm all your best intentions.
Mine is June. My best
friend, brother, parents and three other close friends are all born within
thirty days of each other. And salting
the wound, my parents are actually born on
the same day. Unacceptable. It’s
such a major issue for me, that when my hubby and I decided to have kids, there
was a three month period where I flat out refused to attempt procreation, just
because conception then might lead to
a June baby. Imagine that
conversation: “Sorry honey, not
tonight. How about six weeks from now?”
June is my personal hell, and after many years of living
with the dreaded 06, I have noticed a peculiarity about my behaviour towards
this time of my year. My moods always
follow the same five emotions as people dealing with grief: Denial, anger,
bargaining, depression and acceptance.
Let me explain…
Denial
This normally hits about mid-May and lasts until the first
day of June. My poor tiny mind simply
can’t grasp the fact that it’s almost June and shuts down. This is where I start sounding like my
eighty-six year old nana by making senior-style statements like, “How is almost
half the year gone again?” and “Each year goes faster than the last…”
Anger
June 1, and with birthdays looming only days away, presents
unbought and cards unsent, a tsunami of rage boils within me. Lord help innocent bystanders if this stage
happens to coincide with THAT time of the month. About now, I’ll normally scream completely
redundant proclamations to the sky like, “WHY!!!??? June is STUPID!!! I HATE birthdays! What were all your horny parents doing back
in September anyway? This is everybody’s
fault but mine!!!”
Bargaining
In desperation, I turn to online shopping and card creation
sites, with futile hopes that the delivery promise of three days, doesn’t mean
three business days. I try fooling myself that “There’s still
time!” and find myself wandering idealess around Target or Ikea, looking for a
gift to jump off the shelf… then end up leaving with a gift card.
Depression
As I arrive for parties and family dinners, sheepishly
proffering flowers from Woolies and a $1 card filled out two minutes earlier in
the car, the sinking sensation hits.
Inevitably, there’s always some smug show off in attendance with a
thoughtful and generous gift that just makes me want to drown myself in the
nearest wine glass. And the excuses I
make sound vapid even to me, “Sorry, I’ve been busy, I thought this party was
next week, etc…”
Acceptance
At the end of the month, I finally cut myself a break: I am
a full-time working mother of two, with a husband who runs his own seven day a
week business. I will NEVER be the kind
of person who plots perfect gifts months in advance and I can barely remember
my own birthday, let along other people’s, without my calendar. If my family and friends choose to be
offended over late cards and hasty gifts, then they’re not paying attention to
the other eleven months of year when I strive to be a loving daughter,
supportive friend and tolerant sibling.
Having said all of that, with the advent of so many awesome
and creative websites for online buying, an automatic birthday calendar with
weekly reminders and a strong self-motivation to do better than before, I am
truly hoping this year will be different.
I’ll get onto it next week. Or the one after. I’ve got plenty of time…
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