When we were first married, one of the many (Many. MA-NY.) things Gary and I had to work through was the birthday issue. My family celebrates one's birthday, remarkably, on the day one was born. The in-laws like to play around with which day shall be the Feast of the Birthday. The date is not particularly relevant. It doesn't bother me, but it seems that sometimes an entire birthday goes by unacknowledged because the Birthday Observed happened last month.
Back to when we were first married -- I asked Gary to do something. He looked puzzled and said:
"But it's my birthday week."
"Pardon?" I asked, in complete and total disbelief, because I'd been married long enough to guess what was coming.
"It's my birthday week. I don't have to do anything during my birthday week."
Well, young and foolish, I let him get away with it. Possibly I thought it was another Catholic thing with which I was unfamiliar. At any rate, the next March I again asked Gary to do something. He looked puzzled and said:
"But it's my birthday month."
"Oh, that's a load of crap. Last year it was a week."
"No, really, it's my birthday month. I don't have to do anything during my birthday month."
"Fine, then in August you'd better watch out."
Of course, I forgot until mid-August, but then I played the birthday month tradition as if I were born to it. "No, I can't cook / clean / drive / answer the phone because it is my birthday month."
The S_______s deny any knowledge of this tradition. "Birthday WEEK? Birthday MONTH?" they laugh. It is lucky we didn't have this tradition in my family, since Mom and I generally have our birthdays in the same week.
And speaking of the Queen Mother -- here she is on the Throne: