Today is the first day of my birth month. When I was about 4 years old, I began to understand time. I had learned what months were and that November was the month in which I was born. I knew that November followed October. But, sadly for my parents, I did not yet have awareness of how many days there were in a month or which exact day was my birthday. Every morning for 11 days, as soon as my eyes popped open (usually around 5:30 or 6am back then – man, what happened to THAT energy???!), I would run to my mother’s bedside to ask if it was my birthday yet. I’m sure by day 4 of this new ritual, my mother was grateful I had delivered 2 weeks early. And so the 11 Days of Kristin’s birthday was born.
I was, and remain, the only person who has ever really celebrated it, but those around me have often been sucked into my self-adulation (‘Shots for my birthday! (in 6 days)’, ‘Let’s have birthday cake (even though my birthday isn’t til Tuesday)’, ‘I’m ordering the filet to celebrate my birthday (in a week)’ ). There will likely be a bit of that this year, so beware of the randomness that will be the celebration of my 40th Do Over.
Every day will start with a birthday memory blog. Hug It Out Saturday is now Hug It Out November. If you don’t like being hugged you’d better warn me cause I’m comin’ in for it otherwise. Proclamations of ‘let’s go get pedicures!’ will likely pop up.
To put this in context, last year’s birthday was #40 and was a little anticlimactic. I say anticlimactic. It was really more like the worst birthday of my life – or at least since my 16th birthday when, due a cluster fuck of bad decisions that only an unsupervised 15 year old can make, I didn’t have any actual friends, much less anyone who wanted to celebrate my existence.
It was anticlimactic in that the invitation sent out the night of my 39th birthday to 500 of my closest friends and relatives boldly announcing the party to end all parties, to make up for every milestone party I had been denied, was rescinded when it became clear that Dad wasn’t going to live that long. The party was supposed to be for him and my mother – gratitude for having me, you know. And, when I say I was denied milestone parties, I’m serious. No Sweet 16, no off the hook 21st, 2 weddings and not one bachelorette or engagement party, or bridal shower, only 1 had a reception that was awkward at best, and only 1 had a honeymoon, sort of. For 40, I had the alcohol sponsor, the bands, a few possible venues picked out, and was talking to a couple of food vendors as well. It was gonna be TIGHT!
Unfortunately, 40 would succumb to the same fate as all the rest of the milestones. It became one of the most awkward gatherings of people I love I have ever witnessed – outside of family functions. The Scottish/Celtic types were on one end of the table, the Buddhists were on the other end and me and a guy I had been dating for about a month in the middle (I told him he didn’t have to come to brunch but he insisted, who was I to argue?!). It really spoke volumes of the clash of worlds within my own and the transition my life was about to take. It was a memorable birthday, to be sure, and I am grateful to the brave souls that joined me for it.
41 is going to be BRILLIANT. I can feel it in my bones…
So, WELCOME! to the 11 Days of Kristin’s Birthday!!