Happy Birthday, Mom!

If I can wish Hugh Jackman a happy birthday from my blog, I can wish a happy birthday to a far more important person in my life -- my mother.

It was her birthday today. She turned 88.

She's the youngest of three first cousins of her generation still alive and kicking. The other two are 91 and 99. They think of her as "the baby." She thinks of herself as "venerable" and "aged" and "stove up" and says she can barely get around.

But she got up and down my steps quite well this evening. She tolerated the dogs bumping her with their noses and Micah laying his big head in her lap while she tried to eat her birthday cake.

He loves her, but he loves cake even more. And I finally had to banish him to the kitchen.

I think she had a good day. She got to talk to her grandkids. And she got new pictures of the newest great-granddaughter.

And she got a fair number of cards even though she said to me the other day, "They're getting fewer. Who's left alive to send them?"

Well, a few people are. And they all wished her a happy birthday.

So do I.

Thank you, Mom. And happy birthday. I can't begin to tell you how much you mean to me.