There is no one as ruthless as the Hendersons when it comes to forgetting a person exists.

Yesterday was my birthday (blergh, 32, who cares) and though I went to work, I looked forward to coming home and relaxing with Seth. On my way home I was thinking, "Wouldn't it be great if someone from my family called to acknowledge the fact that I was alive?" but based on past history I knew better than to let it get past a glimmering hope. When I got home and saw that no one in my family had sent a card, and my cell phone didn't ring all day*, I totally shed a few tears. Not hysterical crying or anything; much more mopey and Charlie Brownish.

You see, "out of sight, out of mind" is taken to dementia-level extremes in my clan; it's more like "out of sight, out of earshot, out of town, out of the will, Out of Africa, out of the galaxy". You'd think my family had some incredible lineage that I'd sullied, something that required their executive-level shunning. Like I burned down the plantation that had been in our family for generations shortly after mowing down the cash crops and shortly before running away to join the circus. In reality, all I did was leave the state of New York.

I'm not exaggerating - they ACTUALLY FORGET ABOUT ME. Like someone cracks open their skulls and plucks out the little Danielle nerve center. When my grandmother was hospitalized for her stroke in the late 1997, I didn't find out about it for two days. My grandmother said, "Oh, we didn't want to bother you all the way in California" but a few days later my granddad fessed up and said, "Yeah, we just forgot to call."

The forgetting carries over to my birthday. That movie, Sixteen Candles? Oh boo fucking hoo, Molly Ringwald, your family forgot one birthday. At least you get to make out with a cute guy in the end. My birthdays are a revolving mash-up of Sixteen Candles and Groundhog Day, and all I get at the end of it is a searing headache. 

So yesterday I was just moping around for a little while, laying in bed with Seth trying to figure out where we should go out to eat. And my phone rang. And it said, "Grandma." And I was happy, SO happy to talk to my family...until they called me a fatass and forgot how old I was.

Mom: Hi, honey, happy birthday.

Me: THANKS! (tears, joy, fireworks shooting off in the background)

Mom: So how old are you?

Me: (crickets) Um, ARE YOU SURE YOU DON'T KNOW HOW OLD I AM?

On April 21, 2003 at 5:17pm I took the biggest dump of my adult life. It was like passing a soup can. I remember it, because it was the largest thing to come out of my body, ever. If that turd had higher brain functions, a heartbeat, and the possibility of becoming ambulatory I'd TOTALLY REMEMBER HOW OLD IT WAS AND SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY EVERY SINGLE YEAR FOR THE REST OF ITS LIFE.

Mom: Oh, I know how old you are. I, um, just want to hear you say it.

Me: (laughing between tears, shotgun in mouth)

Then it was my grandmother's turn.

Granny: Happy birthday, sweetie pie. I have a card for you - I'm looking at it, it's on my dresser. I forgot to send it. What are you doing today?

Me: Sitting next to Seth, deciding where to go for dinner.

Granny: Oh, is he there? Let me say hi.

Seth: Hi!

Granny: Hi, baby. Tell me - is Dani still going to the gym?

Seth: (puzzled, what the fuck look on face) Uh, yeah?

Granny: Is she losing weight?

Seth: (afraid, wondering where this is going) Yeah, she's doing good.

Granny: Good. I liked her a lot more when she was smaller.

...I kind of liked it better when they just completely forgot to call.

*It totally could have - I look at my phone once, maybe twice a week