Birthday? What birthday?

Seriously, how weird do you have to be to have a Leap Year Day birthday? I mean, I figured out I was really odd around age 4 or 5, but now at age 38 (as of today, or tomorrow, depending on how you calculate it), I think I am exhibiting the essence of strange and unusual.

People always ask me, "What is it like to be born on a Leap Year?" Well, first of all, it is correctly called Leap Year Day. Everyone born in a year with a Leap Year Day is, technically speaking, a Leap Year Baby. Only those of us blessed to be born on the 29th day of February are actually Leap Year Day babies, named such because we were born on that day (duh) - and because the lack of annual birthdays means we will be forever young.

Well the answer to this question is - that when when I was younger, my parents always (and still do) make February 28th my birthday. I never felt left out, less special, or anything. On the years when I had a "real birthday" as we call it, my parents and family did something extra-special. There may have been a time from approximately ages 6-13 when I would become annoyed upon getting a new calendar and was unable to mark my actual brithday. I got over that and, like everyone else, my birthdays quickly lost appeal and gave way to the normal daily grind after passing such milestones as 16 (my 4th birthday) and 21 (which was not a big deal to me, because I don't really do that birthday-specific activity very much anyway).

Now, as I inch closer to the big 1-0, which will mark 40 years for me, I feel like we Leap Year Day people are unique in that as adults, we still have a special day that, because of its rarity, does not ever get lost in the redundancy of everyday life. I always have another birthday to which I can look forward. Even though the next time I have a real birthday I will be 40, I am really excited about it coming again in two years. It is sort of like the age thing takes a backseat to the Leap Year thing and I don't care that I am going to be 40.

The most important reason why aging does not bother me at all is because I am a mommy now, and the day I became a mommy is the most special day in my life. I think most mothers would say that their children's birthdays are more celebratory occasions than even the biggest milestone birthdays of their own. The only time I have ever been sad about, on, or before a birthday is the night before my oldest child turned 3 years old. He was praying with me and singing songs and saying his ABC's before he went to bed. I was overwhelmed with how fast the three years had passed since he was still in utero. I could not fathom the miracle that God performs everytime a child is concieved, carried, and born. On top of that, how precious and bright and intelligent he was just made me feel like the most blessed mother in the world. I cried out of exhaustion, because this precious 2-turning-3 year-old had a 1-turning-2 year-old brother, and out of gratitude for my adorable boys.

This morning, that now 10-year-old child made me waffles, leftover fried cheese cubes, leftover fried gizzards, and some sliced brie for breakfast. He can only operate the toaster and the microwave, so I got foods that reflected his current culinary abilities. Surely, much like the first three years show logrithmic development rates, the next 10 years will show equally impressive improvements in his cooking skills. My appreciation is immeasurable.

So, when my friends are celebrating their oldest child's birthday, I tell them, "Happy day-you-became-a-mommy Day," because we know that this is the day when we mothers truly celebrate in our hearts.

Oh, and when I turn 40, I am so having a 10th birthday party, complete with bowling, junk food, presents, maybe even a sleepover.