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Forgetful year in the making

It was a Friday, and I was on the 12:30 p.m. call with the Long Suffering Husband. He calls every day on his lunch hour, because that’s the only time we have contact on some days.

Also, so I can ask him what he wants to make for dinner. (He’s a better cook than I am. Plus, I wash the dishes … most of the time.)

“I know it’s your birthday, but the children have to march at the football game tonight,” I said. “So, they’ll be gone when you get home — “

“Actually — “

” — and I have to work,” I rattled on.

” — it’s not — “

“So, we’ll do a cake and presents after everyone gets home!” I said.

” — my — “

“You want German chocolate, right?”

“Yes, but — “

“OK, I’ll make that. And you want the pecan-coconut icing, right? My mother says you don’t like it, but I know that you do,” I said.

“That’s fine, but — “

“Oh, and I signed you up to work at the concession stand today,” I said.

“I’m sorry it was on your birthday, but it’s the last home game, and we have to work at least one. I forgot I was going to be working tonight.”

“Alright, but — “

“But anyway, happy birthday!”

Silence.

“Honey?” I said.

“It’s not my birthday.”

“That’s not funny,” I said. “Your birthday is Oct. 13.”

“My birthday is Oct. 13. Today is Oct. 14.”

I grabbed my date book and flipped to the date. It was Oct. 14. I had walked around all day with the assumption it was Oct. 13.

I forgot my husband’s birthday.

Meanwhile, for my birthday, he had bought me a lovely microfleece electric blanket because he is practical, and I am cold-blooded.

I felt terrible. I was a terrible life partner. Not only had I forgotten his birthday, but I had done it in the same year I forgot our anniversary.

Even when I forget his birthday, I manage to make it about myself.

“Why didn’t you say anything yesterday?” I asked. “I can’t believe you let the whole day go by and didn’t say a single blessed thing. Why would you do that?”

“What did you want me to say? ‘Hey, you forgot my birthday?'”

I felt even worse. I adore him. To think that he felt forgotten was crushing.

Again: All about me.

“I didn’t forget your birthday, I thought today was your birthday! I was going to surprise you with your cake and cards and presents, but everyone is going different places tonight.”

His actual birthday would have been a much better day to celebrate it.

“Don’t worry,” he soothed. “No one else remembered either — I didn’t hear from anyone.”

His parents and siblings also forgetting his birthday didn’t make me feel better. In fact, I felt worse.

” … well … at least you don’t have to make dinner tonight.”

(Wallace-Minger, a resident of Weirton, is community editor of The Weirton Daily Times.)

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