A few months ago, when I had heard of some new and improved cancer, I decided to do some cleaning of my closet. In my closet was a box of Dollar Store cards- containing many birthdays, graduation and sympathy cards. Rather than throw out the forgotten “Happy # __ birthday”, I decided to put them to good use. I took the Bar Mitzvah card and wrote to my son, the Sweet 16 for my eldest and a standard card for my middle.

After I wrote and sealed them (no- if you’re wondering, I did not cry), I gave them to hubby – who in turn, put them in his top drawer of his night stand.

Fast forward to last evening, when hubby was emptying the top drawer of his nightstand since I bought new ones for the two of us.

Enter Scene 1:

Kid: (Comes into kitchen) Mom, Did you write me a death card?

Me: What? ….NO….. I write cards every year to you. In fact, look in your baby box, there’s birthday cards in there unopened too.

Kid: You wrote me a card for my sweet 16??…. dad gave it to me.

Me: (screaming) Hubby!! What did you give her?

Hubby: Oh… Ohhh… Is that what that was? I thought it was a birthday card for you…

Me: (to hubby) What’s wrong with you!

Kid: Did you think you were dying?

Me: Oh honey, all moms think they are. I saw it once on a show that one should always write cards to their kids.

Kid: I could barely read it anyway; like every other word.

Me: Well, certainly you got the gist. ….Happy sweet 16.

Kid: From my dead mother?

Me: No…. wouldn’t you be happy if I was dead, to see a card from me?

Kid: NO. It would ruin my day, “happy birthday from my dead mom.”

In any event, the take away for me is that I no longer need to write them future birthday cards, because they’d only be ungrateful.