The Day That Was Supposed to Be My Birthday

I didn't mean to be born late, Big People.  You gotta believe me!

Well, Friends, here we are on August the Twenty-Seventh again, the date that will apparently be forever known to me as "The Day That Was Supposed to Be My Birthday."

That's right.  Somewhere along the way, doctors told Mommy and Daddy I was supposed to come along on August the Twenty-Seventh.  Apparently this date meant a lot to them, Mommy especially.  Daddy's kind of let it go, over the years, but one of the first things I remember my mother saying to me on the night I was born was 'You were supposed to be here two weeks ago.'  I was like 'Are ya kiddin' me, lady? Do ya have any idea what I just went through, and you're pickin' right now to nag me about this?!'

Shoulda known right there, the tone of my life had been S-E-T set.

So anyways, yes.  My birthday was supposed to be August the Twenty-Seventh.  It was a Saturday that year, I remember, and I remember the "Be Born!" alarm went off, but I rolled over and hit 'snooze,' because... Saturday. I didn't know it was gonna set off this Whole Big Thing for the Rest of My Life.  Oh, my goodness!

Apparently by bein' tardy to my own birthday party, I changed the trajectory of my whole entire life.  Insteadda startin' kindergarten in the Fall of 2016, I'll be waiting until the Fall of 2017. So? 

You know, all the nagging aside, I wouldn't do a darn thing different.  I like my September birthday.  9-9-11.  I like my dark blue birthstone.  I like that insteadda havin' my birthday be bittersweet at the end of Summer, it'll be a bright beacon of fun and sugary cupcakes to look forward to after School starts, when I do finally go to school. 

So whatever.  I can handle hearin' about today bein' the day that was supposed to be my birthday.  Bein' born's a big deal.  This day just didn't speak to me as a Birthday.  I picked the day that did.  That's all.  I've gotta be me, and I plan to be Me for the rest of my whole entire life.

How about that?!