This is one of those non-milestone years for her -- she's in that awkward phase between too old to be Miss America and too young to star in a Rascal commercial on some three-digit cable channel.
But we're glad she's with us, especially after the scares she put us through last fall. Watching your parents get old and start to fall apart is never any fun, but -- as the saying goes -- it beats the alternative: watching them get younger and better-looking as you get old and fall apart yourself.
And I hate to spoil the surprise, Mom, but I'm still in that awkward phase between never having any time to shop and never having any good ideas for presents. So you're getting another nice fat check in the mail. Tucked into a cat-themed card. Because nothing says I love you like a card from Target with a picture of a cat on it.
I hope I timed it so it arrives today for you. And I hope you use the money to buy something fun. Because I'd hate to think I bought you vacuum-cleaner bags for your birthday. I may be a bad gift-giver, but the gift of clean floors is a new low, even for me.
P.S. Happy birthday to the fiancé's brother as well. It is a strange little coincidence that you share a birthday with my mom, but it makes for one fewer date I have to store in my bad-gift-giving brain. And the Department of Birthday Coincidences doesn't stop there; we both turn 40 this year. But just remember: You will always be older than I am.