Birthday Post, Late

         I was born in the hiccup of time between February and March in a year with an extra day.  It’s a day that many don’t understand, and leads to some confusion as to when to celebrate my birthday in the 3 years in between when there is no 29^th of February.  I think the extra day occurs because the ancient folks who made the calendar we all go by couldn’t figure out another way to keep time and the seasons going along regularly.  I think it’s complicated and if I were more energetic I’d look it up and impart that wisdom to you but alas!  I am not going to do that.  Let’s just say they had a reason and leave it at that.  Getting back to when I celebrate, my mother always said that I was born the last day of February and I think that makes sense so I celebrate on whichever day is the last one of February.  Some people celebrate on March 1^st reasoning that I wasn’t born on February 28^th which I know but really it makes no sense to me to wait for the first day of March.  If, however, someone wants to wish me a happy day and give me cake or a gift on March 1^st I will graciously accept!

         My brain works differently than many other people’s brain.  It’s nice to be unique, but it does lead to some frustrations in dealing with others on a daily basis.  For instance, if I am giving someone directions to a place I will always give landmarks for them to look for along the way because that is what I look for when going someplace either new or that I don’t go very often.  When I am on the receiving end of directions I frequently am frustrated because generally I get only a couple street names, some mileage, and second left, third right, or something like that with no landmarks.  It leads to confusion and frustration for both of us.  At work the different way I think tends to lead to my coworkers trying to help me but actually making things more difficult.  I know it looks like I need help but in my mind all is organized so that I can get through my tasks quickly.  It’s nice that they want to help me so I try not to let my frustration make me cranky. Oh the perils of thinking differently!

         I don’t know for certain that being a “leap baby” makes my brain work in a unique way, but I like to think it does.  Having an unusual day of birth makes for a good conversation starter, even if it does lend an air of confusion as to when to celebrate it!

Birthday Memories

This year I have a “real” birthday, and although I may look like a 52 year old woman, I’m having my 13th birthday. There are so many birthday memories; I hardly know which ones to talk about. Even though my oldest brother (sorry Doug, I don’t hold it against you!) told me one time that I didn’t have a birthday that year, (I was maybe 7?), which sent me crying to my mother, my family celebrated my birthday on the last day of February every year.

I have vague memories of sitting on the high step stool in our kitchen with my brothers and parents around the table singing “Happy Birthday”, clapping when I blew out the candles on the cake my mother made and decorated, and watching as I opened my gifts. Happy times! In Kindergarten we had the “birthday chair” which the child being honored sat in while their classmates formed a circle and sang to them. Afterward there would be cupcakes brought in by Mom for the whole class. I recall in elementary school going to other girls’ birthday parties at their homes, my friend Nancy’s featured a spaghetti dinner her mother prepared, cake and raspberry sherbet. Sometimes there were games in the finished basement and soda, sometimes games of tag and hide and seek outside. I remember one such party at my house when I turned 12. I vaguely remember lots of giggling, running in and out of the house, a cake with vanilla frosting and of course lots of gifts, mostly stationery, hair ribbons, and craft kits. I turned 16 on a Sunday and wore a lime green gown my mother made to church that day, and stood as the congregation wished me a happy birthday (I think I turned “4” that day, too!) Of course when I turned 18 my friends took me out to a bar for a rum & coke, and in college we celebrated my 19th for a whole week by going to the town bar for pitchers of beer and pizza. For my 21st my friends gave me a surprise party at my apartment. Every year my family got together for a meal and cake around the time of my birthday, memories most dear now that my parents are gone and my brothers and I all busy with our lives. We do manage to remember each other’s birthday and make a phone call or send a card to wish happiness for the birthday honoree. Birthdays at work have always featured cake and gifts from co-workers, and every 4 years much joking about my ‘tender’ age, and generally a paper crown. My 50th was celebrated a few times, with my family, with my two very dear friends who I met because of Hillary, who took me into NYC for dinner and a show, and with some friends from my childhood with whom I had recently reconnected. Of course, for the past 30 years my husband has been the bringer of cake, and buys me dinner and a gift.

Regardless of who I celebrate with, or what gifts I receive, I always eat too much cake--so much that I feel like I have a cake hangover the following day. No matter, it’s nice for at least one day a year to be made to feel extra-special and appreciated. This year is no exception and I have some lovely memories from it.