Tomorrow is Mom’s birthday, but we celebrated her achievement (turning 83) at a family dinner tonight. It was festive as all get out, and everyone had a blast at Suzanne and John’s house.

The kids were in fine form, and the rest of us were happy to be together. And after Aiden insisted on arresting and imprisoning me, several times, and administering corrective electroshock therapy whenever I got out of line (“I’m tasing you, Uncle Mike,” he said with a giggle), I was happy to get out of there in one piece. I learned at Thanksgiving, when I bruised a rib wrestling with him on the lawn, that I have to draw the line somewhere, but I have yet to figure out exactly where that line is. I’m okay, though.

Speaking of ribs, Mom requested that David cook his famous ribs, in lieu of her usual birthday meal of tacos, and David was pleased to oblige. I can tell they were great because of the reactions all around me, even though I didn’t partake myself.

I did contribute gnocchi, straight out of the E2 book, and they seemed to go over well, too. I know I enjoyed them. I try not to make too many demands when it comes to these occasions, but I’m grateful for any little concession that’s made to my quirky eating habits. It’s not just meat and dairy that I avoid, but refined sugar and enriched flour and a few other common ingredients. Corn syrup, yuk.

So I’m not the easiest person to cook for, but I’m very easy to please, because I know how to satisfy my own tastes while saying no to the things that don’t work for me. And everyone understands, which makes it that much easier.

But this night wasn’t about me. Mom and Suzanne both have birthdays this week, and it’s right that they both get credit for all they do for the family, and all they’ve done over the years. Where would we all be without them? I’d hate to have to think about that.