Yes, my birthday is actually ON Christmas

When people find out that I was born on December 25th, 7:14pm Pacific Standard Time, they usually ask something like “What’s it like, having your birthday on Christmas?”

Well let me tell you…it’s a lot like having your birthday on a a day when you get to see all your family and everyone should be happy and cheery, but oftentimes said family is worn out, annoyed, and irritated. And you never get to see any of your friends because they are all busy. Oh, and no one really remembers it’s your birthday because, well, it’s Christmas!

I’m mostly kidding. When I was younger I didn’t like the fact that my birthday was also Christmas Day. For one, all I ever really wanted was a pool part like all my other girlfriends. Ice skating is fun, but…well, one year Mom suggested a half-birthday party in June. I did finally get my pool party.

And when I turned 13, my parents gave the family the ol’ heave ho and we (Mom, Dad, Brother and I) went horseback riding on the beach on Christmas Day. We finished the evening with dinner at The Super China Buffet, A Christmas Story style. That, to date, was my favorite birthday.The second most popular question I’m asked regarding my date of birth is “Did your parents plan that?”

Let the record show that no, they did not. In fact, as my mother likely wouldn’t hesitate to tell you, I was two weeks overdue. I don’t remember making the decision…

I don’t mean to complain. It’s just…everyone else gets their own day.

Yes, I realize how completely whiny that sounds. Yes, I realize there are children starving in Africa. Yes, I realize that I’m turning 23 years old and I just need to get a life. And yes, I really do realize that there are much bigger things going on in the world and in people’s lives.

But they don’t write my blog. So….Me, Me, Me, Me.

See, I have to get it all out of my system before Christmas Day because Christmas Day is about love and family and Jesus, and little kids being afraid of Santa. I love Christmas-time, Christmas Day is just complicated for me.

My family is great about it. They really are. But sometimes their well-intentioned gestures are really just uncalled for. My darling Nana (yes, the one who made me take that picture with Santa) went to great lengths to make my birthday time special, and for that I am forever thankful. After all the Christmas frivolity was done and things were winding down, we’d all file into the garage to sing Happy Birthday and watch me open birthday presents — half of which were wrapped in Christmas paper.

Why the garage? Because there were no Christmas decorations in there. Only birthday decorations. Clever, right?

You know what else was missing from the garage? Heat. I love my grandfather, bless his heart, and it’s a good thing he was frugal and wise with his money, and normally I would agree that it is silly to turn on the heat in the garage. But on your only granddaughter’s birthday? Common! Go wild.

True, we lived in San Diego. Knowing what I know now (and considering the outdoor thermometer currently reads 14.2 degrees Fahrenheit) I know it likely wasn’t all the cold. But for 40 people born and raised in San Diego…standing in an unheated garage in December isn’t exactly a good time, no matter how cute the girl blowing out the only heat source in the room is.

I didn’t notice the grimaces or shivers or side-eyes at the time, but as I got older, I got wiser, and started paying attention.

In conclusion, it’s not that I care that my birthday is on Christmas. Big deal. I just have a little PTSD that resurfaces from time to time, and now I feel awkward when people make a big deal about my birthday. It always feels like an afterthought to me, even when I know it isn’t. And I feel awkward when they don’t do anything, too. So really, your damned if you do and damned if you don’t.

Mappy Birthsmas.