Kimra Traynor Herb

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Kimra Traynor Herb
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Who wants a New Year day birthday?

My husband is a New Year's baby. His birth was heralded by labor pains by my mother-in-law at a New Year's Eve party some forty three years ago. "What a great day to have a birthday!" I said to him, years ago when he first revealed his 1-1 birthday.
"No, it stinks." He told me then, as serious as can be.
"But you are the New Year's baby!" I bellowed, all bowled over by the thought of a festive little baby in a party hat and blowing a horn. (I am way too influenced by the media, it seems.)
"It's the worse." He replied. "Half the time, my parents give me presents on Christmas day and tell me that they are for my birthday."
I pondered that one for a moment. "But then you get more presents and a cake on your birthday?"
"Nope." He said, "Often just the "extra" present on Christmas."
He went on to reveal that everyone in his family was so caught up in the post Christmas frenzy that his birthday sometimes went unnoticed until his younger brother's birthday on the fifth of January.
I vowed right then and there that God as my witness, I would make his January first birthdays as special as I possibly could from that day forth.
As far as it goes, I have only been moderately successful. To be honest, January first is way too close to Christmas. It's really hard to get right back out there after Christmas and think up a new, totally original gift. And despite the fact that my hubby has been scarred by too many presents wrapped in Christmas paper- that temptation is always strong as the fifty percent off wrappings call my name.
I have managed to always clear the house of every trace of Christmas so that his birthday is not celebrated under the tree. This is no small feat, I tell ya, because I am the deck the haller of all time. Not a room in the house goes without a tree, garland and other festive touches, so needless to say I have a huge challenge in getting it all put up in time. Still, I remember my vow of decades ago, and stuff that garland into rubbermaid containers at a lightning pace.
Since my husband is a New Year's baby, I always want to come up with some kind of celebration to make it ultra deluxe. When he turned thirty, I threw a New Year's eve party which turned into a surprise birthday party at the stroke of midnight. It was a moderate success, despite the fact that I was wearing a mock leather mini skirt which was way too tight and gave me a ferocious rash. And who can forget the year I tried to spiff up the old angel food cake with sparklers? I stuck about twenty of those suckers in the top of the icing, lit 'em up and served a sparking delight. How was I to know there would be metal shavings all embedded in the icing when the fun was over? Two years ago I decided that I would make an angel food's cake from scratch. Now mind you; I have been doing the box cakes for years and those guys are easy baking. So how much harder could a real one be?
The answer to that query is "lots". "Lots and lots" to be exact. And who knew that you would need so many egg whites for one little cake? The recipe called for seven egg whites, and guess what- I only had five eggs in the fridge. I whipped the five I had, telling myself that five was VERY NEARLY seven and my super duper fluffing of the egg whites would more than compensate for the missing two eggs. Well, guess what? Five egg whites are not as good as seven- and even with my wonderful fluffing the cake was kind of like a dense vanilla flavored sponge. It was oddly wet and not nearly delicious enough to compensate for its dense, unappealling texture. Chalk that one up to the "learned lesson" category- last year I bought a cake.
They say the road to you know where is paved with good intentions, and I am sure I have paved a stepping stone or two in my quest to provide that most fabulous of all birthdays to my New Year's baby- but I am ever hopeful that this year will be the one which will surpass all others and help him forget about those early birthdays which were less than stellar. If nothing else, my attempts to liven things up just may cause a whole NEW set of scarring birthday memories, which will serve the same purpose, just in a less happy way.