Paige's Return to Deutschland!: Blue Birthday

One of my pet peeves is doing things that are perceived as "fun" while really not enjoying them. It's one reason I am thankful that Paul likes playing board games with our kids.

Glitter Unicorn Board Game Rule 45: All players must wear glitter sunglasses

That's my segue to the topic of bummer birthdays or as a nod to Elvis' Blue Christmas - Blue Birthday. They are not a bummer because you're a year older, less shiny, none of that 'traditional' nonsense. They are sad because you reflect on the last birthday and feel how much you've lost. As my mom died exactly a week after my birthday, I had a foretaste on my 32nd birthday and then the full-meal-deal on my 33rd.

It's logistically challenging for me to arrange my last free room service Blue Birthday experience for my Aunt KK's upcoming birthday. Waking up on your birthday next to your loopy first-born is a treat. This birthday dedication blog post is plan B - a kind of solidarity in grief or misery loves company?

I'm thinking a lot about my Uncle Karl this week as Crosby prepares for his final piano recital. Karl told me that my cousin's piano teacher's advice was to, "Never make him practice." I never took this advice, instead opting for the 'play for 20 minutes and then you can play video games for 20 minutes' approach. Crosby never really liked piano but I kept him going because he loves to perform. Specifically he likes to make people laugh but because comedy is an art that takes years to perfect, piano seemed like a good path in the meantime.

Crosby's last piano recital was a couple days before my uncle died. There were a lot of funny moments during the concert that I wish I could have shared. The classic, adorable, nerdy girl wearing socks and sandals who played the accordion. The cooler-than-me 11 year-old who played her fender guitar and belted out "We broke up when...." while her duet fly girls accompanied her on the piano. Finally, when the MC asked if anyone else wanted to play more, Crosby's hand shot up. His piano teacher and I exchanged happily, surprised glances as he went up and played an encore.

Crosby ramped up his protests this year from "I don't want to play" to "piano is ruining my life". I was hoping that he would play piano until at least middle school. But the teen years came early to Casa Biggs and we're valuing family harmony over piano. He is interested in trying the drums. Of course he wants to, I mean look where he first played:

Prince of the Basement

I remarked to Paul this week that I know that I can't keep carrying around all these painful associations with Karl and everyday life - music, food, etc. My therapist told me months ago that I need to turn from grief to gratitude. I am grateful for the years that we had with Karl. But, I'll still likely be ugly crying at Cros' piano recital on Wednesday just like I was stifling sobs in the back of church this morning. It's just sad.

If my writing wasn't a gift then I'll fall back on one of my old stand-byes: adorable photos of my kids sleeping in uncomfortable positions: