Three out of the four people living in my house have fall birthdays. My husband and I often joke that our wedding anniversary in August is the kick-off to the holiday season in our home, as we have birthdays in September, October, and November, of course followed by Christmas and all the chaos that comes with that.
In the decade that I’ve known my husband, birthdays have been a rather hotly debated topic of discussion. I grew up with parents who were all about birthday celebrations. My mother began our birthdays by blasting The Beatles “Birthday” song from the White Album in the morning. We had a special breakfast, often found a special note and dessert in our lunchbox, came home to a special dinner, then, of course, we ate cake. If your birthday was on, say, a Wednesday, and your birthday party was on the following Saturday, you still got cake on that Wednesday. Because cake that isn’t served on your actual birthday doesn’t count for 100%. Besides, who argues with more cake? No one.