Yes, it’s true.

It’s birthday city around here. Two birthdays in the span of five days is nothing, though. It takes both my hands and a foot to count the number of birthdays we have in our family in the month of March alone. There are lots, peeps.

But today? It’s mine. Fun, huh?

I know, you are thinking it, so go ahead and say it.

So you’re an April Fool’s baby?

Yep. I sure am. My dad begged and pleaded and coaxed my mama to push me out before the clock struck twelve on April 1st, but I had a mind of my own. (Nothing’s changed in that regard, in case you were wondering.)

He also watched the contraction-tracker-paper-thingy closely and faithfully let her know when a big one was on its way. She really appreciated that. Since, you know, she couldn’t tell when the whopper contractions were on their way.

She also didn’t call my dad to let him know she was in labor until she’d been at the hospital for three hours. He was in the Marine Corps at the time and she was afraid of his commanding officer. So she kept holding off, wanting to make sure she was really and truly in labor before calling him. As it turned out, she was.

I tell all of this as if I remember it, of course.

You think I don’t? You’re crazy. I was there, peeps. Of course I remember every bit of it. Just ask the people who have known me for most of these many years I’ve been around. Remembering things I wasn’t exactly a part of is my specialty.

Speaking of things known and unknown… Hey, I have an idea!

In honor of not always knowing the full story, or even part of the story, we’re going to have a test of YOUR knowledge, bloggie peeps.

Just how old do you think I am as of today?

Beware–guessing it might not be as easy as you think. People get it wrong all. the. time. Even my extended family wasn’t sure of my real age when we were all together this past weekend. So, you know, if they couldn’t even get it right…

(And–insert evil laugh here–my comments are still moderated, due to some recent issues with bloggie security… but this also protects us from the, ahem, CHEATING, of the people who know me in real life or of those who would read the comments first to get the answer. I’m not even going to let the comments through right away. Because, peeps, this is serious business, all this age-guessing. I mean, important stuff going on here at the H&H blog. Mmhmm.)

But at least I actually know how old I am–unlike a certain aunt of mine. For several years she thought she was a year older than she actually was. Imagine her surprise when, one birthday in her mid-thirties, everyone figured out that, lo and behold!, she was a whole year younger than she’d thought.

And that, my friends, is a memory I can actually claim as one of my own. I was there on the Birthday of My Aunt’s Discovery and can say I remember it… unlike, you know, most of the first few paragraphs of this post. But what’s memory for but to be improved upon the older we get, right?

Oh, and last, but certainly not least in this ramble, happy birthday to my mama, who gave me life this day. Now that I’ve had my own two bebes, I sometimes wonder if it’s not the MOMS who deserve the celebration, because, whew, that’s a whole lotta work. A lot of work.

So guess away, peeps. It shouldn’t be that hard. I’m just feeling so mature today and am thus holding a completely ridiculous guessing game. Because that’s what you do when you’re old an mature, isn’t it?

I thought so.

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