This is my first official birthday post. That’s right. HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!! I am a fan of birthdays. I am lucky in that I have friends who allow me to feel special on my big day, who reach out from Paris and Australia and the Upper West Side. In my child-free  years, I’d throw parties for myself. One year, I organized a party at a decadent Soho club called Spy Bar with four other Pisceans: a publicist, a designer, a rock star and a Squirt. Another year, I got gifted a dress from a designer and threw a soiree with a birthday twin. I loved the celebration, the glee upon the faces of my friends. Mostly, I liked putting a party together. I was delighted when I had a child, and could turn my birthday planning attention onto her. When my daughter turned one, I gathered my newly minted parent-friends and my still child-free friends at a playground in the shadow of the Word Trade Center, just days before everything changed. Kenny Shopsin, of the legendary Shopsin’s restaurant, brought treats; that was a time. Later, when she was in school, I’d throw her party in June, before summer broke, so she could have the kids she spent the school year with in attendance, as she is a summer baby. I rented out a pizza parlor and had a clown perform; it was Harry Potter inspired. There was a birthday party at Build-A-Bear, always a thrill. I took a gaggle of girls to the American Girl doll store and they had birthday brunch at the cafe.  One birthday, I took her friends on a walking tour which included a visit to a police precinct. I tried to be imaginative with the parties, making each and every gift bag personally, filled with games and candy, sugar always a convenient go-to. In addition to the birthday parties I threw for the children, I also hosted an adult-friends dinner at Lombardis, the brick over pizza joint in NoLita; I’d commandeer the upstairs space, a veritable private room, and my best friends would gather, celebrating her birthday. My friends played a huge role in raising my daughter, and I liked having us all under a roof. As my friends partnered, they’d bring their babies too. As they left the city, they continued to call on her birthday, always so thoughtful, my friends. Once my daughter had her bat-mitzvah, I stopped throwing birthday parties for her. We went to London and Paris for her 13th. And her high school birthdays usually included a sleepover of her friends and dinner out, minus my presence. I miss the attention I paid to her milestones; I had so much fun with them. And so tonight, I will have dinner with my daughter and two of my best friends and toast the day, as well as the future. Happy birthday to me!

Also, this is the birthday card my Mom sent me. Along with a stack of condoms. So, thanks, Mom. Thanks for having me. Thanks for looking out for me. Thanks for everything. This is as much of a birthday for you as it is for me.

Meshell Ndegeocello: “I’m trying to get to the place where we can all have some empathy for one another. That’s what scares me. I’m living in a time where there’s no nuanced debate. I think we are all struggling to find acceptance in a world that is really quick to judge you.”

When Christiane Amanpour asks about sex, I want to listen.

Jenna Jameson has discovered breast feeding and it’s a glorious thing.

Yazemeenah Rossi: “You have to know what is important to you in order to make your life pleasant.”

The very sad Killer Nanny trials.

Who do you picture when I ask you to picture a leader?

There’s a women’s climbing festival!

Target has crocheted swimwear!

This bag. If I had the courage to buy it for myself, I would.

Coach killing me softly.

First time sex stuff.

And now have a laugh with Annie Lederman.