Forgot My Mom's Birthday Again This Year

So here's the deal. I've been meaning to write this confession for a while now, but every time I get around to it, something else catches my eye or I just forget again until next year rolls around. See, there's this yearly tradition of mine that, let's face it, is kind of terrible. Every single year since I can remember, I somehow manage to completely miss my mom's birthday. Now before anyone starts getting all judgmental on me, hear me out. It's not like I don't care about her or anything, I mean, she raised me and took care of me through every little sickness and scraped knee I've ever had. But there are so many other days in the year that I have to remember, work deadlines, friends' birthdays, anniversaries, and somehow, my mom's birthday just doesn’t stick out like it should. Last week was particularly bad. My sister called me up, practically shouting into the phone, 'Have you forgotten already?! It was last Thursday!' I had no idea what she was talking about at first until I realized exactly which day it was. And yes, I did forget again. So here we are. Why do I keep forgetting? Maybe it's because my mom never really made a fuss about her own birthday, she’s the kind of person who doesn’t need or want attention for herself. But as much as I try to tell myself that it's okay and she understands, part of me can't shake this feeling that there should be something special about it. I was thinking today that maybe if I started a new tradition, like marking the date in red ink on my calendar or setting up some kind of reminder weeks in advance, it might stick. Or perhaps I need to change how I think about her birthday, it doesn't have to be an elaborate party; even something small would make me feel better. But here's where my thought process goes off track: instead of focusing on the why, what if there was a way for me to magically transport back in time and surprise myself into remembering? It sounds crazy, but wouldn’t that solve everything? But alas, I don't have such powers. Maybe next year will be different, or at least this confession will finally stick.