Happy Birthday to ya...

Today marks the beginning of what is known as Birthday Season in our house. My children's birthdays are in June, July and August and my summer revolves around planning parties and outings to celebrate the nascence of each my offspring. While it does involve a lot of work, and subsequent bitching to Hubby, I have to admit I love, love, love it. I am actively excited on the eve of their birthdays because birthdays in my house are a big deal.

In my house you are Queen or King for a Day when it's your turn and Mommy pulls out all the stops. The week before, the birthday child selects a menu for the day because on your day you can eat whatever you want. Today is my middle one's fourth birthday and for breakfast she has selected chocolate frosted donuts and Panda waffles (Eggos from the movie Kung Fu Panda which she has not seen, but she loves pandas), peanut butter sandwiches, carrots and Oreos for lunch and McDonald's for dinner. While these are pretty normal requests I am prepared to deliver the goods even if the requests are strange. My oldest has already requested corn on the cob and donuts in the morning on her special day. I also spend the night before decorating the house. Each child wakes up to the living draped with streamers and balloons accompanied by a Happy Birthday banner, under which sits their birthday presents which they may open immediately. Then he or she can decide what we're doing for the day. The park? You got it. The zoo? Let's go! They have their "friends" party on another day, not only to stretch out the fun, but because their actual birthday is about family.

For me, birthdays are better than Christmas because they are private holidays without all the craziness and obligations attached. It is a day I say yes to any reasonable request. It's a day I allow myself to put aside all of the extraneous bullshit that comes with this job - the cooking, the laundry, and the housework - and just be with them. I never realized, until I had kids, how a mother is affected by her child's birthday. I take time to recall the long nights of labor when each of these little wonders came out of me and into my life. I even have a little ritual, which I hope will not fall by the wayside in their awkward teenage years, where at the time of their birth I make sure I am alone with them, or as alone as you can be with three kids, and at that moment I hug them and tell them, "I am so lucky I got you."

Maybe these birthday rituals sound like overkill, but trust me, it's not about presents and things. It's about time and making my kids feel special. The kids' parties are usually modest, backyard affairs (yes, I will confess I had a ridiculous number of balloons for my oldests' fourth, but they were seriously cheap) and I am fighting the good fight not booking some ridiculously expensive venue or sending each child home with forty-five dollars in favors. By the way, when did these ridiculous "goody bags" become par for the course? You came to a party, had cake, had fun. Now you want a present? Go home! When I was a kid all it took was some cake and a few balloons and I was over the moon. Although I will admit birthdays not being a big deal at all in my house growing up probably turned me into the birthday fanatic that I am.

So let The Season begin. Happy, Happy Birthday to my girl. I know we're going to have a great day.* Donuts and McNuggets for everyone! I remember every detail of your birth like it was yesterday. But I am still trying to forget the fact I was forced to deliver all nine pounds of you with no epidural.

*Despite the birthday-o-rama in my house my children HATE it when anyone sings Happy Birthday to them and will clamp their hands over their ears. Perhaps a reaction to their over-zealous mother? Nah.