Birthday week continues. I promised yesterday not to leave you hanging about my other birthday list item, and I know you've been waiting with baited breath to find out more.
     I used to tell my mom I wasn't going to have kids. I may have been young, but I knew enough about childbirth to know I didn't want any part of that. However, when it came to make-believe, having children involved no pain or invasive exams, so I was all about it. I loved being mother to all my dolls and was pretty attached to all of them. I asked for a baby doll every birthday and Christmas so I could look forward to the "birth" of another member of the family. Now, of course, those dates are pretty close together in terms of gestation, so when I was old enough to figure that out, I decided that I had a rare disease that made my babies develop abnormally quickly, thus reducing pregnancy time and allowing me to justify having babies in July and December of every year. I've said it before and I'll say it again - WEIRD KID.
     There was a bit of a process. Sometimes I would actually stuff clothes inside my pajamas on nights close to my birthday and fall asleep rubbing my "belly". I'd have names picked out, and when my baby arrived, I'd decide whether it was a boy or a girl and name it accordingly. Then, that night, I'd fall asleep with my newborn in my arms, feeling the joy of having a new family member. I'd usually wake up in the morning to the guilt of seeing my vinyl bundle of joy face down on the carpet where I had knocked it out of the bed. Oops.
    So, you see, July 15th isn't just my birthday, but my babies' birthdays too. Jeffery Alan will be 19, Phyllis Virginia will be 18, and there are others, of course, that I can't remember right now. I'm a terrible mother.