Pea Soup, Liver, and Cornbread

I don't remember many birthday gifts I received as a child. A few that do stand out in my mind are a set of Snoopy bedsheets and a stuffed Snoopy for my 5th birthday, a Pink and Pretty Barbie for my 9th birthday, and my prized brown leather bomber jacket for my 16th. The following year I received a state of the art boom box complete with cassette dubbing capabilities, and if I am not mistaken, for my 18th birthday I received my first pair of real Keds, noteworthy only among aspiring fashionistas such as myself, which went nicely with my culottes and would serve as my Holy Land-trekking foot attire the following February.

I also don't remember having birthday parties except for my 5th, though there may have been others. Because my birthday is between Christmas and New Years, I never even got to partake of the grade school gloriousness of donning the coveted birthday crown and passing out cupcakes to my classmates. I guess teachers hadn't yet thought of the idea of choosing an alternate day to celebrate the birthdays which fell during school breaks, or at least none of mine had.

What I do remember about my childhood birthdays, however, was how important my mother made me, and each of us, feel on our special day. Birthdays at our house were a big deal!

The life of the birthday person was truly celebrated with luxuries that ranged from special foods of our choosing, to deciding how the day would be spent, to being excused from all normal menial chores, to the unveiling of our highly anticipated birthday cakes which my mother homemade and custom-decorated. This was one of her parenting specialties.

Honestly, I don't remember many of my cakes either, or many of the other details of the day, but for three consecutive years - ages 4, 5, and 6 - I do recall my mother's compliance with my menu request for pea soup, liver, and cornbread as my birthday dinner.

Because of the timing of my "holiday" birthday, there was huge potential risk for my receiving diminished special treatment, but this was never the case at home. The efforts my mother put into making things "special" have made an indelible impression on my memory.

To this day, when I take the first bite of a hot piece of cornbread slathered with butter or hold Snoopy's gaze for just a little too long, I feel a tightness in my chest and a lump in my throat. They are iconic images that evoke a strong sense of nostalgia and connection to my family of origin.

With four children of my own now, I have been striving to carry on this tradition and make it one of my own specialties to create enduring memories of simple luxuries and family connectedness, and not of extravagant hoopala that is all too quickly forgotten.

Yesterday my youngest celebrated his 3rd birthday. As I frosted his American flag/Thomas the Tank Engine cake - because that is what he had requested - it occurred to me that this was my 31st opportunity to make such a mark on the collective memory of my children. As I see them genuinely excited to celebrate the birth of their siblings and their gratitude over the smallest indulgences, along with the fanfare they create over our birthdays, I am pleased to say that teaching my children to celebrate birthdays is one thing I have done well in my parenting.

What are some of your fondest childhood birthday memories, and what are some of the birthday traditions you have established with your own children?