A Plea on Behalf of December Babies

Stay Away From The Ocho My Kind of Holiday Party

A Plea on Behalf of December Babies

Take a moment from your Christmas cookie decorating, your holiday shopping, the work party that you love and loathe in equal measure, and consider the 11/12ths of the population who have a birthday in December.

There. That’s probably almost as much attention as they’ve ever gotten on their birthday, thanks to that guy Jesus who was born who knows what day but gets arbitrarily celebrated on December 25. (It made it more convenient for the Pagans to take vacation time off and upcycle their holiday fir trees, back in the day.)

I come from a family crawling with December birthdays, and I’ve managed to befriend a whack of Capricorns along the way. Our youngest kid was born on December 25, which may seem bad – all her gifts for the year crammed into one 24 hour period, and on her special day everyone else gets presents too. So much for being the center of attention. But actually it’s so bad it’s good again, in that none of her friends or extended family ever forgets her birthday, and we’ve spent fourteen years overcompensating for the fact that she decided to head for the maternal exit ramp three weeks early.

So she’s set. But pity the December 22 kids (I’d love to come to your party but I have to douse the fruitcake with brandy that night) and the December 26 kids (I’d love to come to your party but I’m exhausted and was hoping to lounge around in my jammies playing with my new XBox games) and the December 30 kids (I’d love to come to your party but we’re all going out tomorrow night anyway, so can we just combine them?) Pity the kids whose birthday presents come wrapped in Christmas paper. Pity the kids whose cupcakes for the class have Santa on them. Above all, pity the non-Christian kids whose birthday celebrations are usurped by a guy they don’t even hang out with.

One of my closest friends has her birthday today. Every year she graciously offers to combine her birthday celebration with an annual gift exchange luncheon we do, called Bitch Santa. (Why Bitch Santa? Each of us gets a number and you open from the stack of gifts everyone brings, based on your number. Anyone with a higher number can steal a gift from someone who’s already opened one. And every year, though it is unplanned, there’s a dud gift. This year it was heated fleece socks -“Perfect for Diabetics!” You never want to be #1, holding a great piece of jewelry or a fabulous holiday clutch, when #8 opens up some diabetic socks.) We take her up on it more often than not because ugh, the holidays, so overscheduled, so much to do!

This year, though, when she offered, I came up with an idea that I think borders on genius. We just needed to create a birthday party that gives people what they need in December – some freakin’ down time.

So later today I’m hosting a luncheon for a few friends with a strict dress code: pajamas. We’ll overeat, we’ll lounge, we’ll play Cards Against Humanity, and the birthday girl can decide whether the music we play is Christmas-themed or not. The whole shebang will be over by 4, still leaving time for evening plans on this booked-up weekend. (In my case, the Lord Huron concert that doesn’t start until 9 pm, pray for me, I am 100 years old.) I was going to offer people our wrapping paper and tape so they could multitask while they’re here, but I think having zero Christmas activities is part of the point.

Seriously, if you have friends with December birthdays, think of it as an opportunity to step back from the madness this month. Take them on a hike, or to a skating rink, or to a movie – anyplace that will take your mind off the fourteen gifts you still need to buy/wrap and the cards you haven’t gotten signed yet and the root cause of the faulty Christmas tree lights. All those problems will still be there when you get back.

And it may almost make up for the time you regifted him or her a present from your own stash, and forgot to take off the original to/from tag first.

Wow. I couldn’t NOT use this song, but proceed at your own risk.