Birthdays

Birthdays are a funny thing. The first birthday of your life is probably the best and worst one you'll ever have. First you're squeezed through a tiny tunnel out into the bright lights and cool air and away from your warm little cocoon of sleepy bliss. If you don't remember the day you were born, imagine sleeping (naked) in your cozy bed, then having someone rip off the covers, turn on some flood lights, pour a bucket of water over you, and then turn on a fan. You'd cry too.

But after all that horror, you get to cuddle with your mommy and daddy for the first time and, if you're like me, you love cuddling. And I still like to cuddle with my mom. Don't judge, you know you like it too. On top of all the first-time cuddling, you also get to eat food through your mouth for the first time instead of your belly button. Yup, your tongue finally has a purpose. Yummmmm food.

Last week, on Feb. 18th my 5th niece, Violet, was born. Cute name, huh? And she's adorable. I haven't met her yet. Sad. But here she is:



Happy late birthday, Violet! I hope all the cuddling and mouth eating made up for all the bad stuff.

I used to loooove my birthdays. What kid doesn't? When I was four (or was it five?) my brother gave me a stuffed Donatello (yes, the teenage mutant ninja turtle) because I was obsessed with Donnie...and had a huuuge turtle crush on him. That is probably one of the best birthday presents I've ever been given. In fact, I still sleep with Donnie every night. Poor James has to spoon the two of us. He doesn't seem to mind too much though.

Another great birthday memory I have is of my Donatello birthday cake. My mom's friend, Tammy, has some major cake decorating skills and baked me a cake in the shape of my beloved Donnie. I ate his eyes along with his purple eye mask. Love him.

After that the birthdays weren't too exciting for a while. 15 was pretty fun because I got out of school all day for a track meet. 16 was exciting for a minute because my mom got me a hamster...but it bit so I could only hold it while wearing gloves. And then my mom's dog killed it. So, in the end, not so exciting.

It started getting better around 20. I spent my 20th birthday in Mendoza, Argentina on a field trip. It was awesome. We had wine (Thanks Pepperdine!) and danced and talked and we were surrounded by gorgeous landscape. It was a pretty cool way for anyone to spend a birthday.

Then for 21 I had the birthday of all birthdays. Two friends and I took off for spring break and headed to London for a week. It is and forever will be one of my most treasured trips. I'm a big fan of celebrating a birthday week instead of just one day, and we sure did that week! One of our other friends happened to be in London at the same time so we met up with her in Notting Hill...did some shopping...drank some coffee...went to Pizza Express which is actually somewhat fancy even though the name doesn't sound like it...and then we got into a club even though everyone else on the trip was under-age...since it was my birthday they let it slide. Woo! It was a blast and I'll never forget it!

Then there was 22. I hadn't realized yet that people stop caring about birthdays after 21. On top of that fact, I'm typically one of those people who can't plan get togethers because people won't show up. I know, I'm lame. My wedding is the only thing I've ever planned that people actually showed up to. They must really like James. Anyway, for my 22nd birthday I asked a bunch of my friends if they'd like to go out to dinner and out dancing afterwards. Everyone said they were coming, so I thought I'd make it extra special and fun by getting a limo. That Saturday I got call after text after call of people canceling. Depressing. I called the limo company to cancel and ended up baaaaaaawling into the phone. Poor limo guy...he gave me a discount though so I kept the limo. That night only four of us ended up going out together and it was of course the people who were most important to me anyway (thanks guys!). That was the year that I realized I don't care about my birthday anymore. Sure I still look forward to cake and presents and everything...but I will never again expect anything fun to happen on my birthday, and I'm okay with that. I'm old. It's time to grow up and realize that birthdays aren't fun unless they are spent in bounce houses with my nieces.

This year I'm hoping for a birthday-twin niece. Come on Diana...you can hold her in for 9 more days right?