My life is a lie

I was just semi-asleep. My mom walks in and says
"Happy Birthday". I half raise my head to look at her
and the "conversation" begins thusly:

(I pick up one of my pillows and slam it over my head
as I wail)

D: "OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD."

M: "What! It's today..."

D: "YOU'RE MY OWN MOTHER..!"

M: "It's tomorrow..?"

D:"...DON'T YOU REMEMBER GOING INTO LABOR ON A
PARTICULAR DAY!"

M: "Oh. Well did you want to do something today?"

D: "I'm going to dinner with friends tonight."

M: "Well, what do you want."

D: "I don't know. Strawberry pie. Whatever."

Fucking hell. My own mother cannot remember my
birthday. Now, my dad I can see - because he can be
stupid and he is a male, but my MOTHER. The woman who
had to go through LABOR and whom I was inside for nine
months? My life is a lie.

And for the record: my mother's birthday is 6/20,
dad's 7/10, brother's 3/30 and my dead sister's (who
only lived a day) is sometime in early September.
Fucking hell, I can even remember the month, at least,
of a sibling not alive.

I was wide awake after that conversation. I texted my
friend Anne a recap of what just happened. She called
me back practically in hysterics. "I don't know
whether to laugh or cry!"

Good thing we're drinking tonight.