April is my birthday month and except for the year when I turned “not 29 anymore” I usually enjoy it. 

Neat thing: about every ten years my birthday falls on Easter.  I say “about” because I  don’t think I was born on Easter but it was Easter when I turned 10, 20 and 30.  I’m adopted and when I met my biological mother the only thing she told me about my having been born is that she went into labor watching the “late show“.  So, I kind of assumed she meant a week day and not an Easter Sunday.  I could have pressed for more information but I didn’t.

When I turned 10 I was spending Easter break with my father and step-monster.  I got the usual Easter Bunny gifts which I promptly devoured for breakfast and then we all got in the car to drive to my Grandmother’s house for my birthday party.  About 20 minutes into the one hour trip I was leaning up in between the bucket seats of my father’s car and not feeling so good.  I then threw up chocolate bunnies and peanut butter eggs all down the step-monster’s back.

When I turned 20 I was visiting my mother and grandmother for the holiday, home from college.  They made me go to church, which is always unpleasant for me.  I also had to wear a dress, which is most unpleasant for me.  After the service and some birthday cake I got in my car for the hour long drive back to school.  When I finally hit Pittsburgh there was an unusual traffic jam on the Parkway.  It was really hot outside for spring and I was driving a crappy little Chevy that was already well past its prime.  There wasn’t any air conditioning and I wouldn’t have been using it anyway because the car was over heating in the standstill traffic.  I was thirsty and wearing a painfully hot, burlap sack dress that itched a lot.  At one point, I looked out the driver’s side window and I swear to G_d, I saw Jesus on the cross  just floating up in the sky.  I don’t think it was a religious revelation so much as I was experiencing heat stroke and severe panic that the car was going to catch fire.

The year that I turned “not 29 anymore” was a hard one.  S and I were living in Dayton, Ohio and I was in a bit of a funk over the birthday.  I shouldn’t have been, I know, but I couldn’t help it.  Losing my twenties was hard.  Not being what is considered young anymore sucks.  S is five years younger than me and at the time she kept telling me how silly I was being, which was easy for her to say.  But now, as her birthdays come and go and she gets closer to not being 29 anymore, she is starting to complain too.

So, it is my birthday month and we really do celebrate the whole month long.  We have cake on my actual birthday and then do fun birthday things on all the other weekends.  This year I am hoping to go to the William McKinley Birthplace and Museum in Canton, as one of my birthday trips.  Maybe we’ll even hit the First Ladies Museum which is also in Canton.  If gas prices weren’t an issue I would demand a birthday trip to the College Football Hall of Fame in South Bend, Indiana.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: