Birthdays

I do not think birthdays are that important. Which is odd, I think, since people in other families tend to think more of birthdays than my family does. I'm not sure if it's how my parents grew up or what, but to them our birthdays (children) just mean that we get to decide on dinner, and, at least for me, they get to grab something out of their stash and put it in a festive bag. Theres some singing, but never any cake, mostly cause pie is better, and some good-hearted humor. But nothing big. The party is an afterthought, and family never comes to visit. It's like our ages do not matter all that much.
In other families though, its a big deal, even in those families with winter birthdays. They get their special days and sizable enough gifts, if not as much as a christmas, and sometimes family even comes to visit or at least there appears to be a family birthday party. Then they have their party, and it's a big deal and a good time.
Even though I notice these discrepencies in birthday culture, I cannot figure out the motivation behind either mentality and I mostly just posted this journal because my birthdays always suck and it makes me feel unloved. I mean. Soap. Mr. Wilcox, do not get your kids soap. Thats like saying "I don't know you, and this doesn't matter".
I should be grateful for what I have, and I am. But I know my parents can do better. It is not that I'm not concerned for those who have less than I do, it is that I am concerned that my parents do not think enough to give me what they can, and what is well within reason. But enough griping.