This is my favorite time of year. Football returns, the impending holiday season, Halloween, apple cider and kettle corn, all of the festivals going on, and...my birthday. Yes, I still get excited for my birthday.
When I was a child, I really didn't have birthday parties where I invited my friends. I didn't have many friends back then. Partially because I was serious and studious, and partially because I didn't fit in with children my own age. I was around adults more, and I preferred them over my peers. Adults weren't obnoxious and didn't fight over Barbies, swings, or the cute boy in the other classroom. My Grandma Street baked me an angel food cake every year for my birthday, because that was my favorite. One year she baked me a cheesecake because I asked her too. One of the fondest memories I have of my childhood is watching Grandma get my cake out of the oven. She baked it in an old cake pan that was probably from the 1960's, and she would set the hole in the middle of the cake pan on an old glass Sprite bottle. I can still smell that cake if I close my eyes and concentrate.
As I got into high school and gained more friends (and a boyfriend or two), my birthdays got better and better. There was usually a marching band* competition on or near my birthday, so my band mates would sing "Happy Birthday" to me, buy my lunch or dinner, give me a card, etc. My boyfriend would take me out for dinner and a movie and give me gifts.
My kiddo was born a little over a month after my 22nd birthday, and I told everyone who would listen that I got a belated birthday gift that year. This is where I'm going to get sappy and harsh. If it wasn't for my kiddo, I might not have lived to have any more birthdays. I was a "party animal" personified. I drank a lot. I smoked pot and occasionally dropped acid. I didn't have a serious boyfriend for over 3 years, but I had quite a few friends with benefits. I distanced myself from my family, who had no clue I was doing all of that stuff. Of course, all of that stopped when I found out I was pregnant...which was 4 months after my 21st birthday. Do I regret having a child when I was that young, and do I regret not being married when he was born? NEVER! I honestly believed my kiddo saved my life. I was on a short and dark road to a horrible future, and he was the first street light on my path.
That's why my birthday is a big deal to me. I celebrate every one like it's going to be my last, because it just might be that. This year, my husband and kiddo are taking me to my favorite restaurant for dinner, then I'm going out with friends. That's the day before my birthday, but that's beside the point. I usually celebrate my birthday for an entire week prior to the actual day. On my actual birthday this year, my friends and I are going to eat Mexican food and drink margaritas, then we're going to a Boyz II Men concert. Yes, you read that right. We're going to relive high school for a few hours. After the concert we're going to see a few of our mutual friends play in their respective bands. Sunday, I'm going to visit my parents**, brother & hopefully soon-to-be sister in law, and a few other friends where they go camping. I'm thinking about buying a camper there, so I can see my family a little more often that I already do.
To quote Jimmy Buffett, "I'm growing older but not up. My metabolic rate is pleasantly stuck. Let the winds of change blow over my head. I'd rather die while I'm living than live while I'm dead". That's how I feel about aging, and I love it.
* Yes, I was in marching band. I played the flute and piccolo. No, I don't have any "This one time at band camp..." stories. I was a good girl back then.
** If I don't see my parents on my birthday, I call them and tell them thanks for putting up with me for all of these years.
