Thank You for Being Born

I love birthdays – yours, mine and everybody else’s. I just got back from Las Vegas for my friend Rebecca’s birthday, I’m taking my mom to Laguna Beach tonight for her birthday, and I head to Chicago tomorrow for my best friend Shannon’s birthday; and as July is also the birth month of my youngest brother, my cousin, and America, I have birthdays on the brain. So I decided it was a good time to dedicate a blog post to the world’s greatest holiday – your birthday.

I’m a certifiable birthday maniac. I believe we earn every single year of our lives and we should celebrate the confettied-heliumed-foil wrapped-frosted hell out of it. There should be balloons, there should be streamers, and there should be waiters standing around singing to you in foreign languages while you smile awkwardly at strangers and poke at your tiramisu.

So for those who think “it’s just another day” or “my mom did all the work, I just showed up,” I’m here to share the reasons why you deserve a parade on your special day:

You made cupcakes: You walked into school every year on your birthday holding a tray of pink cupcakes that your mother painstakingly iced in that bitchin’ confetti frosting that always looked better than it tasted. Sure there was singing, sure there was a crown made of paper, but you brought the cake to your own party. You’re a terribly selfless human being.

You were born in summer: It was pretty hard to invite the “whole class” to Chuck E. Cheese when you weren’t in school. You are the grown up who always goes into the office on your birthday holding a tray of cupcakes – and the rest of us thank you.

You shared: Whether you have a twin, a coworker with the same birth month, or a birthday within three months of Christmas, you’ve certainly timeshared your gifts/cake/party/cards at one time or another. As a February baby I’ve gotten more than one birthday gift wrapped in Christmas paper attached to a Valentine’s Day card.

You survived the rest of our birthdays: If you have ever blown up four dozen balloons or written someone’s name in shaky cursive with purple gel frosting or watched an exhausted kid spend three hours ripping open Nerf darts on his third birthday, you have earned your own celebration.

Your mom did all the work: The woman wore unfortunate clothing and stopped drinking chardonnay for nine months so you could have a lifetime of birthday shots and birthday hats and birthday cards. You owe it to her to enjoy every last one of them.

While a proper birthday celebration needn’t always be a blow out party on a cruise ship through the Mediterranean, it probably should be sometime. Don’t save up all the good stuff for turning 50. 27, 31, and 64 are equally as awesome and took just as much work to get to. You earned them all and you deserve an embarrassing display of affection to show for it. Off to buy balloons for mom!