When Mommy (sorta) forgets your birthday

A year ago yesterday, a litter of honey-coated, wrinkle-faced, squinting puppies the size of your palm debuted to this world. Eight weeks later, one of those puppies literally wiggled his way into my world. And since, he has been a cheery spirit and delightful distraction through many challenges, decisions and tragedies my family has encountered in the past year.

But yesterday, of all the days in the year, I failed to show the little guy how special he is to me. No presents. No cake. Not even a walk around the block marked Linus' first year of life. I fretted on the couch with Linus last night after I finally got home from all my weekly obligations, apologizing profusely and promising, like any guilty mother, that we would celebrate this weekend. He chewed on his rope and seemed to glare over at me, as to to say, "whatever, Mom." My brother had to remind me: "He doesn't actually know it's his birthday."

I know I have been spilling a lot about how chaotic Doggie Mommy life can be, but let's face it, it's time to Mommy-up to these responsibilities. I say we're going to go to the dog park, we should go to the dog park. I say we're going to go buy some treats at the Barkery, we should buy them. I say I am going to stick with the healthier food for Linus and not settle for the cheap stuff, we should stick with the diet.  I say I'm going to plan a big birthday party with pools, and hats and doggie birthday cake, that should be so as well. But I didn't do it. And that's what good Mommies do, they "Mommy-up" to their responsibilities.

Amid my failure, yesterday I remembered my own childhood birthday parties, complete with pony rides, waterslides and rented out party facilities. And a real Mommy, who despite all her obligations and distractions, was able to make me feel like I was riding along on a shooting star the entire day. Princess, mermaid, equestrian or rockstar... whatever I wanted to be, I was that day.

So, again, I realize Linus is not a child, he is a dog. And that if he could pick his day, he would probably spend it salivating under my Dad's feet while he's cooking bacon on Saturday mornings. But I am baffled at all you real Mommies out there who can make it up the ladder in your career, serve on your Girl Scout committees, host Bible studies in your homes, pack healthy lunches and make warm dinners before 7 p.m., workout at the gym every day and still have time to plan a dazzling birthday extravanganza for your child. That's nothing less that magical to me.

Fortunately, I have a some time to uncover your secrets in preparation for my own human children. Until then, I'll practice being the best Mommy I can to a "child" who won't burst into tears if I forget to throw a bash on his birthday. Rather than fret, I'll focus on what I can do next year. There's always Birthday #2.