Another Year Older, Another Year Wiser

I woke up and swung my legs over the side of the bed as the sun poured through my window.  Still wearing my nightgown, I made my way down the hallway.  A big grin spread across my face when I saw my grandmother standing in the doorway of the living room.  "You're a whole hand!" she exclaimed.  A whole hand?  It was my 5th birthday and there are five fingers on a hand.....I was a whole hand!  I was delighted that I had completed something.  A milestone.  I felt grown up.  I must have told 100 people that day "I'm a whole hand today!" as well as announced it at my birthday party at McDonalds which was filled with cake, ice cream, and My Little Pony toys.  I've never forgotten that moment that made me feel so important and since then, I've always counted my birthdays in hands.  So, I interrupt my usual Wednesday reading post to bring you my birthdays, by hands.

My 10th birthday, that's two hands, was rough.  It started out wonderfully.  I spent the day before with one of my best friends.  She bought us matching tie-dye outfits to wear at my birthday party the next day.  Her's was blue and turned green in the sun.  Mine was pink and turned purple in the sun.  I felt so cool.  After a sleepover with friends and enjoying cake the next day, we had an unfortunate accident.  All very into gymnastics at the time, a morning on the lawn showing off our best flips turned ugly when a round-off-back-handspring accidentally landed in my face and broke my nose.  Needless to say, my new outfit was ruined and I never wore it again.  I spent the rest of the day resting and feeling pretty hardcore to have broken my nose.

My 15th birthday, that's three hands, I had a party with friends.  We spent the day doing our hair and nails and loudly singing along to our favorite pop tunes.  We loved making our own spoofs up of our favorite TV shows and the most ridiculous commercials.  I still have some of the ones we videotaped.

On my 20th birthday, that's four hands, I was all grown up, for real this time.  I had been living on my own for almost two years, I had been engaged for a year, and was working my way through college.  I didn't do anything for my birthday this year; I was busy.  I was living in one state, looking to buy a house in another, and planning a wedding that would take place in a third state.  I was going to school and working full-time.  I got married when I was 21.

On my 25th birthday, I woke up and peeked over the crib next to my bed where my son was sleeping.  He was fast asleep and I took that moment to do some deep contemplating.  I had completed five whole hands.  That's a whole hand of hands.  But this was not the milestone I was thinking about this morning.  I could hear my first mother in the kitchen busy preparing bacon and eggs.  I listened to the conversation that sounded muffled as it traveled through the walls to my ears as my seven year old brother was persistant with questions.

"Mom, can I go wake her up?"

"No."

"Mooomm, can I at least see if she's awake yet?"

"No."

I made my way to the kitchen.

"How did you sleep?"  She asked me.

"Good, you?" I replied.

"I haven't slept this well in years.....this was the first time that I have ever had all of my children under one roof and I didn't have to worry where anyone was" she replied.

The day was full of relatives and birthday cake and the best chilli I have ever eaten.  It was my first birthday with my first family.  The first birthday I knew my roots and where I come from.  It was the first birthday that I knew the narrative of my own birth.

I was born on this day 26 years ago.  My name was Christen.

"Don't hide yourself in regret,

Just love yourself and you're set

I'm on the right track, baby

I was born this way."

--Lady Gaga, Born This Way

The photo above is of my paternal first aunt and I.  She asked to see my hands when we met to see if they looked like hers.