For the first time in many years, my birthday fell on Mother’s Day. When this happens, I always stress to my daughter, Sydney, that I deserve twice as many gifts and twice the recognition. It’s like two holidays in one, or twice the party.

Sydney invited me to spend my special day with her and her family in Wisconsin, so I flew out on a Wednesday afternoon with the intention of leaving Sunday on the least busiest flight. My son-in-law made us the best early Mother’s Day meal of ribs, brisket, potatoes, corn on the cob and cornbread. We weren’t looking very dainty after our meal, in fact, we both had barbecue sauce all over our faces. Like mother, like daughter.

I slept well that night, wondering if there would be enough leftovers for me to take home in my suitcase. If you keep up with my column, you’ll remember me bringing back over 10 pounds of ham and half a brisket on two different occasions. I admit it, I don’t like to cook. And besides, it was free and made the 70 pound weight limit for my suitcase. Instead, they shared with two of their neighbors, which was alright with me.

Sydney and I had pedicures the day before I left because I wouldn’t have time on Sunday before my flight left. It was a great early Mother’s Day and birthday. I cherished the time I spent with my daughter and grandson.

On Sunday morning, we found there weren’t many seats available on the early flight, so I opted for an afternoon one. Sydney warned me there would be a layover, which I hate, but I convinced myself that flying all day on my birthday would make me “adventurous.” We headed out for the Milwaukee airport around 11 a.m. because my flight was leaving at 2 p.m. and we had about a 45-minute drive and traffic to battle.

My flight from Milwaukee to Denver was okay, but when we landed in Denver a huge thunderstorm blew in, delaying my flight to Tulsa. After that delay, there was trouble with the airplane itself, so they flew in another one from Tennessee.

I was supposed to have left around 2 p.m., but it was closer to 7 p.m. when I took off. By then, my 54-year-old body was feeling more like 80. I landed in Tulsa after 10 p.m. and by the time I got my luggage and drove home, it was almost midnight.

I normally go to bed before 10 p.m. It was then that I realized that there’s nothing like a great birthday adventure to remind you of your true age.

Stay young my friends!