You Say It's My Birthday, We're Gonna Have a Good Time!

Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me, Happy Birthday to me.... Happy Birthday to me! (And many more...)

I know this is a bit cryptic, but guess what? TODAY'S MY BIRTHDAY! Good thing I told you, or you never would have guessed, right?

In some circles, it might be considered "tacky" or "self-indulgent" or "conceited" to dedicate a whole post to one's own birthday. But, you know what? I don't care. And, do you know why I don't care? BECAUSE IT'S MY BIRTHDAY!

And, I share my special day with some pretty special folks:

Brad Pitt
Steven Spielberg
Keith Richards
Christina Aquilera
Katie Holmes
Brian Orser (figure skater)
Leonard Maltin (film critic)
Steven Biko (anti-apartheid activist)
Betty Grable
Paul Klee (painter)
Ty Cobb (baseball player)

Anyway, you get the picture - I'm in some pretty freaking awesome company.

If you couldn't tell, I'm part of a family where life is celebrated, birthdays being first and foremost. The day you came into the world was and always will be the most special day of your life. There would be others, like your anniversary, spouse's birthday, kid's birthdays, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Thanksgiving, New Year's, etc., but your birthday would always remain number one. If you can't fully celebrate/love yourself, then you can't fully celebrate/love another.

My family's still that way, celebrating all the important milestones in life. In fact, they threw a kick-ass party for me just last month for my miraculous agent-snag (I love you, Bernadette!!!) and we're planning a family cruise for me and my mom's "high profile" birthdays next year.

I'm lucky and grateful to have been born into a family that appreciates life enough to celebrate it so fully. I'm also lucky and grateful to have people who comfort and support each other in the bad times as well. Of course, we have our squabbles and our brilliant humor can be biting, but we are always each others' best friends. Always. If I had one wish, it would be that every child in the world be born into a loving family like mine. Many of the world's problems would evaporate instantly.

So, my friends, today is my day (and Brad's and Christina's and Steven's and Katie's and Keith's, etc.) So, please join me in wishing me (us!) a very Happy Birthday.

(Thank you, God, for giving me a reason to put this wildly delicious picture on my blog. I owe you. Big time.)

Speaking of wildly delicious, bring on the chocolate cake!!!

It's My Mama's Birthday!

I'm straying from my writing posts today to give a major shout-out to the world's most wonderful person - my mom. Today is her birthday and there are no words with which to properly express my deep thanks and appreciation for all she's done for me.

My mom had all four of her daughters between December of 1960 and December of 1969. She and my dad worked hard to raise us girls to be honest, confident, kind, successful peeps, and, if I do say so myself, she's done a fairly kick-ass job.

Judy, or Judith as she prefers to called, was a severe asthmatic as a child, but she has never been one to let anything stop her. She continued on with college throughout the births of her girls, and received her BA at the age of 38. She is the past president of the Western Section of MGMA, a large medical organization, and she has been the Business Administrator for a medical practice in Denver for over 30 years.

My mom has always been the type to nurture and support her friends, family, and even strangers on the street (or at a conference or on a cruise ship). She's that kind of gal. But, two and half years ago she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She took it like a trouper, endured the chemo, radiation, and surgery; the humiliation and exhaustion, and thanks to The All, she is cancer-free. It knocked her down pretty low for a while, but my mom's a fighter. She bounced back up like one of those toys I had when I was a kid- you'd punch it, and it would come right back up again (what were those called?). That's my mom.

So, here's to you, Judy. You are my rock, my inspiration, my mirror for all things good in the world and all that I aspire to be. Thank you for putting up with my sh*t for lo these many years. God knows, it couldn't have been easy.;-)

I love you with all my heart and soul. Thank you. Happy Birthday.

Happy Birthday, Adam!

OK, look at us and tell me how is it possible that we have a 20-year-old son? I mean, if we're only 30-ish (give or take a decade), how can we have a son who's 20? It's not physically possible. And, yet, there it is.

Here's a pic of Chuck and I at a lovely little bistro last month in New Jersey. Now, honestly, if you didn't know how old this hot, young couple was, what would you guess? 30? 32? OK, 35 tops? (You know, I have super-powers and can hear you laughing all the way out here in the suburbs of Philly. So, you might want to knock it off.)

Twenty years ago at this very moment, I'd just received a gift from heaven - an epidural. Unfortunately, I still had four hours to go before the biggest blessing/pain in my ass would officially arrive on the planet. Adam Mitchell Schubert came barrelling into the world at 2:22PM MST on Monday, May 8th, 1989. All kidding aside, it was one of the two best days of my life (the other day was two years and eight months later when Ethan was born.)

I remember lying in the hospital bed and cradling my newborn in my arms. We stared at each other and had a truly out-of-body experience. It was a connection I'll never forget. As crazy as it seems, I believe we "bonded" at that very magical moment. And right after that, I had this thought: "Oh my God - someday this sweet, little baby will be a TEENAGER!!!! Help, doctor, put it back!!"

And, it's true. That sweet, little baby did become a teenager. Somehow, we both managed to make it through those (frightening) years, and now Adam is heading directly for adulthood. And that, my friends, is nothing short of crazy. Like Jerry said, what a long, strange (fun, amazing, incredible, frustrating, fascinating, mind blowing) trip it's been.

Here's what our tiny baby looks like now. He used to be a geek who wore only sweat pants and t-shirts. Now he's in college and is a super-cool drummer in a punk rock band called Combat Crisis. And, damn, he's kinda cute! At least we know where he gets his good looks (see pic of Chuckie-poo above) and talent from (see pic of moi above).

So, please join me in welcoming my little, baby Adam (or, Amo, as he called himself until he was two. "What's your name?" random stranger would ask. "Amo!" he'd reply. And I thought I'd taught him never to talk to strangers...) into his third decade of life.

Happy 20th, Adam, and many, many more!

All my love, Mom.;-)