Labor Day Birthday - Something's Got To Change...

Monday was my birthday.  I didn't expect much, maybe a store bought cake or a dinner out without my say in where we were going.  A couple of calls wishing me a happy birthday.  I received none of that.  It was just as well, I didn't feel much like celebrating.
This past weekend was a huge celebration in our town.  There was a foot race, a parade and fireworks and we were involved in all of them.  We had the two kids over and had to keep an eye on them too.  One is extremely boy crazy in a bad way - she's 11 and looks fourteen, and one is a kleptomaniac.
We decided to have a fire in the back yard and make s'mores.  The kids were all excited about it and the klepto loved throwing brush on the fire.  We even put bottles in the fire and were shaping them.  I didn't know one could do that!

The kids were back and forth between our house and the neighbor's and just before we started toasting the neighbor came over asking the kids if they took his phone.  His iPhone.  I patted the klepto down, pulling stuff out of his pockets, relived when I found nothing.  As we were standing there I realized I hadn't checked his back pockets.  When I told him to stand up he wouldn't, and I knew.  I made him stand up, took the phone out of his pocket and took it to our neighbor's house.  Feeling awful for the act of stealing, for his need to steal, and for the fact that it is a compulsion with him and there is NO ONE that will help him stop.  We have been working with him for years and cannot get him to stop.  His parents are thieves.  He sees this.  He watches them get arrested from time to time.  Needless to say, my weekend was ruined.
To have a quiet birthday was nice, just lonely.  I missed the kids.  I missed the cards.  I missed the cake.  My boyfriend was sweet - he got me a card and we watched a movie that I wanted to see.  The thing that hurt the most and does today as well, is that my mom seems to have forgotten my birthday.  She called me in the morning and I answered expecting to hear her say "Happy Birthday Jenny", but she talked about the kids and were they ready for school and how their situation was hard and nothing, not one thing, about my day.  Any other day this would not bother me.  I'm used to it and I let her talk about it because she can't talk about it with anyone else.  But on September 1st I just wanted to scream into the phone - "MOM!  IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!  PAY ATTENTION TO ME!"  I called her at lunch time today and left her a message about what I did yesterday.  She called me back and asked if I could pick the kids up and take them home for her because she didn't feel well.  I told her I would.  When I got to her apartment she still hadn't remembered that she had forgotten.
I realize that I just spent my first birthday without my mother.  When the day comes when she is no longer around I can feel comforted in the fact that it won't be the first birthday without her and that I had survived at least one before that.
I did do one thing on my birthday that I had never done before.  I made my own roasted pasta sauce with veggies from my own garden.  That's why I called her today - to let her know I tried something new.  I miss my mom, even though she's only twelve miles away.