I am a Halloween baby. Born on October 31, 1972 at 3:21 PM. As the story goes, my dad told my mom that she could give birth any time - EXCEPT ON TUESDAY! See, Tuesday was bowling night. My dad did not want to miss bowling night.
October 31, 1972 is...you guessed it. A Tuesday. Thankfully I arrived early enough in the day that my dad could still go bowling. I'd like to think he was so overjoyed by my arrival that he threw a perfect game, but alas, he probably just handed out a few cigars and threw a few strikes.
I have always loved my birthday. And yes, even at this age having a Halloween birthday has always felt like a special day to have a birthday. Of course, having never had any other birthday maybe it just feels special because it's MY birthday.
For the first 18 years of birthday's, I had some awesome parties. My mom would dress up and throw great parties where we'd play games like bobbing for apples, or drop the clothes-pin in the jar. My friends and I (and my brother and his best friend, Kirk) always went trick 'r treating, back in the days where you had to have a costume that allowed for a big bulky coat either underneath or on top. We used pillow cases to carry all of our loot and we went from house to house to house (no mall for climate-controlled candy-getting).
From 19 on, friends were starting to get kids of their own so Halloween meant taking kids trick 'r treating and when I met Chris, we started going out on my birthday, just the two of us. But now we have Carley, and Halloween no longer means it's my birthday. It's about Carley and her dressing up.
I love Halloween for the fact that it's Halloween and Carley gets to dress up and have fun. I've decided my birthday is now on November 1st. I don't want Carley to have to share fun days like Halloween (or her birthday, which unfortunately for her is our wedding anniversary).
So tomorrow I'll quietly turn 36 years old, and I will enjoy the day as a parent, watching my daughter have a great time.
