How The Grinch Stole My Birthday
(or, Why It Sucks to be Born in December)I hate my birthday. Seriously. Hate it. Not in the way that lady sitcom characters hate it because omg-omg-omg it means they’re getting olllld and is that a laugh line? No, I hate my birthday because it falls on quite possibly the least celebratory day of the year.
December 28 places you smack dab between the exhaustion of Christmas and the ability to get hyped for New Year’s Eve. It’s cold (really cold if you’re here in Minnesota). It’s snowy (really snowy if you’re here in Minnesota) and lends itself to 2-for-1 Christmas and birthday gifts (no, it is not the thought that counts). Add the fact that when you’re a middle child, all attention is somehow too much and not enough (my childhood mantra was DON’T LOOK AT ME, usually while I was doing something like streaking naked through the house or throwing a temper tantrum). Now, add the fact that the very next day is my father’s birthday (yes, I am the gift that keeps taking). Stir carefully and you have a birth date that fills me with panic attacks and social anxiety.
This year is also my Golden Birthday, which should hold no significance but as a child always seemed like a far and distant day that would never arrive. Still, I’ve resolved to meet this birthday with grace and indifference, instead of with my requisite tear-fest. But first! A look at my most memorable birthday celebrations:
Age 1: Yes, I was the world’s largest baby. And yes, my parents celebrated by taking a solitary Polaroid portrait of me sitting alone in a high chair. I’m the 3rd child, this is what my baby book looks like.
Age 5: All-time favorite dinosaur on my all-time favorite shirt.
Age 10: Holy crap, I got an American Girl Doll! I was so excited and thrilled I didn’t even care that I had a mouth full of shark teeth.
Age 16: Had the irrational expectation that I would wake up to a car in the driveway, even though I had yet to take Driver’s Ed. Instead, I woke up in rural Minnesota at a basketball tournament. While this daddy-daughter photobooth shoot is all smiles, my mother prohibited me from any birthday celebrations on account of my being a complete and total brat. True story.
aaand...
Age 21: Literally no recollection. And no photos.
What was your most memorable birthday? Surely I am not only person who turns into a total psycho on their special day?
by Nora McInerny
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20 Comments
 | Oh and Lorelei, what a cruel joke! It's ok I always thought the Canada Day fireworks were in honour of my birthday. |
| I'm dying to hear what happens for your 28th, now. It better be good! |
 | My birthday is Sept 7, often the first day of school while I was growing up. Also I grew up in a town that had a HUGE celebration the 1st weekend of September. Before I was old enough to understand, my parents told me that the parade was for me; huge let down when I realized that the parade and fair weren't for me but for defeating a gang of bank robbers. |
| I'm totally with you Nora! January 3rd.....everyone is still hung over and totally over any type of celebration. Waaaaaaaaahhhhh!!!!! |
| a combination birthday and valentine sounds magical, lucky you! |
 | My birthday comes a few weeks after Christmas, so my family is always able to shop the post-holiday sales for my gift! Either that, or I get regifts... I'm sure they're not telling me which :) |
 | Wow that's really and unfortunate birthdate! |
| I want that dino shirt! |
 | P.s. very very cute pics Nora!! You look like a well loved little girl <3 :-) |
| I actually cry on each and every birthday since my 18th birthday. Because i'm getting OLD :( |
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