I Was Born on Election Day

I was. Really. Tuesday, November 7, 1972. The day Richard Nixon was elected to his second term. You know, the "long national nightmare". At any rate, I'll be 36 tomorrow. I haven't figured out if that puts me in my middle or late 30's. I've really been blessed. But my birthday brings mixed feelings.

I've always been ALL ABOUT my birthday. It's the only day that's all mine. My parents always made a big deal out of birthdays. Even if we couldn't afford a lot, there was always something special they did for us.

Five years ago, November 4, my mother passed away. She was buried - you guessed it - on my 31st birthday. Now, in fairness to my dad, he asked me about it before the arrangements were made. He would have moved the funeral to a different day (probably the next day) if I had asked him to. But really, it wouldn't have mattered. And there was no reason to prolong everything just for that. Now, 5 years later, at 36, I know I made the right decision. The whole stinking week has been hard.

It's hard, because when my mother was 31, she was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. Then when I turned 31, I didn't have her there to celebrate. And I've had 5 more healthy years than she did. When I turned 6, she had been diagnosed. My sister was 3. My kids are 8 & 4, and while I worry about everything, I haven't spent the last few years worried they would grow up without me.

It's a blessing, too. Because if anyone knows to cherish each and every day it is me (and my entire family). If anyone knows that birthdays and holidays are extra special it's us. We don't always remember that, but we always come back to it. It makes us celebrate even more with those we love. It makes me thankful for every day with my family. Even if they're getting on my last nerve.

It's also a blessing because my youngest child is a birthday present. That weekend, 5 years ago my husband was going to take me out while my sister kept my oldest overnight. She did, the next weekend. And nine months later? Colby. Poor child, he'll hate that when he gets older.

And it's hard, because this year, my husband has a training session for Cub Scouts at Boxwell. Yup, on my birthday. He's gonna owe me BIG next weekend. But at least I don't have to worry about another present nine months later.

Anyway, happy birthday to me. I cherish mine for so many reasons. Be sure you enjoy your days, too.