37 years ago today, I was born in about 2 hours from first contraction to first breath. I was an easy birth, apparently, but made up for it by refusing to sleep during night-time hours. For the first year. heh.
On my third birthday, I believe, I got a little red Curious George for my birthday. I carried that thing around for a long while, until he was ripped and faded and pretty much loved to death. I have always been a Curious George fan, well before this recent spate of Georgeism spawned by the new movie (which I loved, BTW, and the soundtrack for which TDP DinoBoy and I procured this afternoon).
On my sixth birthday, I had the first party I remember at my house -- my brother, sister, me, and the family down the block. That was it. One present between them. I have a photo of me in my beige/guacamole green gaucho suit, blowing out the candles on my Mickey Mouse birthday cake. Not that I'm bitter about it or anything, but it was always rainy and cold on my birthday, and we could never have the big ol' parties with the outdoor barbecues like my sister (May birthday -- we have photos of her behind two 8-foot tables covered in presents!) and brother (August -- no school, but his whole BASEBALL team came). I always swore I'd never have a kid in October becuase the parties suck -- people always try to foist an orange and black cake on you, or pumpkin-shaped cookies. And everyone wants to wear costumes.
On my tenth birthday, I was told that I had to wear glasses. And that if I wore them every day, I'd be able to go without them when I turned 13.
On my 13th birthday, I still needed the damn glasses. Still do.
On my 16th birthday, my two best friends took me out to a grown-up dinner (with no other adults) and then we saw Stephen King's Silver Bullet at the movies. It was a fabulous adult evening.
On my 17th birthday, the New York Mets clinched the '86 Series, two days after Game 6.
On my 18th birthday, my eventual husband feted me with a fancy dinner out (meaning not the dormitory cafeteria) and tickets to the upcoming U2 Joshua Tree concert. I still have the t-shirt.
On my 23rd birthday, a student in the TV production class I was TA for had an epileptic seizure while at the mixing board. We called the ambulance, and after they took him to the hospital to check him out, I made the rest of the class resume the lab exercise. They hated me, and I'm sure they thought I was a stone-cold-hearted bitch, but I had to show them that if that were to ever happen in real life, they needed to suck it up and finish the show or have dead air. When my eventual husband came to pick me up for dinner, I had a complete breakdown.
Two weeks before my 24th birthday, my eventual husband brought me an engagement ring and asked me to share the rest of my life with him. He was going to wait until my actual birthday, but we'd been to his best friend's wedding on the 1st of the month and he couldn't wait any longer.
On my 25th birthday, the two of us sat in the ob-gyn's office and listened to the heartbeat of my first-born son.
On my 31st birthday, I checked into the hospital at 5:30 am. Five hours later (I'd had to wait while the doctors took care of an emergency case), I met my beautiful curly-haired boy for the first time. He wasn't pinking up right away, so they took him to the NICU and gave him supplemental oxygen. He weighed 9 pounds, 4 ounces, and was by far the largest baby there. Later that afternoon, they brought him to me and I finally got to hold him.
On my 35th birthday, I was in the midst of training for my first marathon. Hub had to work late that night, and I spent the evening watching the Boston Red Sox break the curse, taking the Series in four games under a full harvest moon in total eclipse. Johnny Damon led off with a home run. Four days later, on my first 18-miler ever, I fell and broke my front tooth in half. I blame it on the eclipse.
On my 36th birthday, I was preparing to fly to Washington, DC for the Marine Corps Marathon.
Today, I slept late (or what counts as late in this house, which is to say 6:15), then took my six-year-old birthday boy to the doctor for his well-child visit. No shots needed this year, which was a welcome relief to both of us. Then, we went to school for parent-teacher conferences. Both children were confirmed wicked-smart by their respective teachers. Of course, they're my kids, so I always thought that, but having it verified by third parties was a pretty good present. Although, we did find out that the Elder Child is turning things in late again; even with incomplete assignments the turkey still made the honor roll. The little one has a hard time sitting still, and has an off-the-chart imagination, apparently. Good news (except for the incompletes, but we made progress from last year) all the way around.
Later, we had lunch and then saw Open Season in 3D. Hub was anxious to give me my presents, so I got a new Longhorn visor for the race on Sunday, along with some nifty longhorn logo sneakers, last night. Today, he surprised me again with a dozen red roses. Not a bad birthday at all. In fact, it was pretty dang great.
Tomorrow, the celebration weekend continues with DinoBoy's party at the bounce house place. We've invited all of the kindergarten kids, and about 1/3 will actually be there. No dinky parties for this October baby! Not that I'm bitter or anything!
If I don't get a chance to get online tomorrow, the next time I'll check in is post-race on Sunday night. They've adjusted the weather forecast, and it's now supposed to hit 80 by mid-afternoon. I guess I'd best be done by then, huh?! Eeeeeep!