This weekend my son is turning 7. Except we’re not sure just when. He has a leapday birthday
Being born on leap day is challenging. I never really considered the long term implications when I elected to go in for my C-Section on that day, a friday, as it happened.
All I knew is that I was DONE. Done being pregnant. My doctor offered to admit me and give the boy a leap day birthday, or else I could wait till she was back from a weekend trip, and have him the following Monday. She seemed a little worried about the odd date, but I didn’t want to take my chances of going into labor and getting a random on-call doc. Also, I did not want to wait.any.longer.
“Leap day it is!” I thought. I was excited at the prospect. I thought it was cool. My youngest would be all the more special with his special birthday. He’d always have a special tale to tell. It made him a little magical, like having red hair (which I had no idea he’d also score).
The truth however, is that a Leap Day birthday is kind of a pain in the ass. It’s annoying in a bunch of ways I never considered. Like the fact that half the time I cannot fill out a form with his actual birthdate. I have to choose February 28 or March 1st because the 29th is not on standard calendars and online date pickers. Sorry kid, your birthday doesn’t exist.
And then there is that awkward two day pause every year when it’s “kind of” his birthday, but not really. Which day do we celebrate it on again? The 28th? The 1st? Both? I’d love to tell you we were one of those organized take charge families with a plan and that we execute said plan but in reality we fly by the seat of our pants. I haven’t even planned his birthday party this year. A delay that seems easier to explain away on years when he doesn’t HAVE an actual birthday.
On Leap Years I want to heave a huge sigh of relief because that day is REAL. He has an actual birthday. Unicorns smile.
All this said, I would not change a thing. My little redheaded Leap Baby is rare, special and I suppose his strange birthday is a part of that. He’s less of a baby ever moment.
I say we celebrate all weekend. Why not?
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