December birthdays suck. Overshadowed by the holidays, December birthdays are tossed aside like unwanted presents and ignored like the extra tug it takes to button your favorite jeans.
Growing up, my December 30th birthday was the worst. Stuck like a speed-bump between Christmas and New Year's, my birthday could never be celebrated with a classroom of squealing children (we were all on Christmas break), and time after time my American Girl-themed birthday parties had to be canceled due to Nor'easters.
This year, however, someone is finally making up for all of my Christmas-wrapped birthday presents and snowed-in parties. Because somehow, somehow, during a month that wasn't supposed to count, during a month off before I started with the RE, I was just given the most unbelievable birthday present ....
Happy 29 to me. I think it's gonna be a good year.