Parents aren't always wrong.

During my kindergarten year, my mother threw a large birthday party for me. She really went all out. The party favor bags were fabulous, each one with a "Dazzle Doll" by Mattel - little fashion dolls, that were all the rage and I was obsessed with.

There were lots of games. Lots of cake. Lots of decorations. Lots of girls.

I, of course, had been to many other kids' birthday parties, watched them get fawned over, fussed over, and generally be the center of attention for the whole day. The rule of the day was that the Birthday Girl always went first. First in every game. First to get a piece of cake. First, first, first.

My mother, on the other hand, hadn't been to nearly as many children's parties in the early 1980s. Her concept of these things was a bit old fashioned. So, imagine my shock when my mother is putting numbers into a bag to determine the order of who would go first, and she set one of the numbers aside jsut for me - and the number wasn't one. Or even two. It was 25. Dead. Last. What was wrong with her? Hadn't she been to Virgina's party? Or Catherine's? Kristin's? Diane's? ANYONE'S?? This was my party! MINE! AND I WAS SUPPOSED TO GO FIRST.

I tried to reason with her - and by reason, I meant a full volume temper tantrum. She took me by the arm, and said in her quiet but angry voice that these were my guests. And so they should go before me. At this point, I would have been a decent stand-in for the donkey, given what a complete ass I was making of myself. But I still insisted.

Nicole, she said, if you want to have a temper tantrum, fine. But you'll have it alone, in your room.

FINE! I stomped up the stairs. I'd show them. Let them be without the glorious presence of the birthday girl. Let them try to enjoy themselves without my sparkling personality. I waited upstairs in my room smugly, for the apology that was sure to come. The second big shocker of the hour: No one was coming up to my room. They actually meant for me to be up there, and have my little fit. I could hear them laughing. And I was upstairs. Pouting. This hardly seemed right. I may have cried a little more, or thrown myself on the floor a couple more times for good measure. Soon enough, I was back downstairs and rejoining the party, reportedly saying to my mother, regarding my temper tantrum, "I'm done now."

I don't remember what presents I got. Or what I wore. I do remember that last or not, I was not even close to pinning the tail anywhere near the donkey's ass. But, in retrospect, I'm proud of my mom. I'm glad that it was more important to her that I learned to be a gracious host, than it was to please a five-year-old tyrant on her birthday. That lesson stayed with me. When it's time for me to make a similarly tough choice - risk my son throwing a fit in front of all his friends, and maybe appearing like the mean mom in the hope of teaching him something valuable - that I will do half as well.

List Break

I find lists comforting. I make them. I don't always use them to their full potential, but sometimes, just seeing everything there is to do helps me feel a little more relaxed.

But, right now, the list of things I have to do is just overwhelming. So, instead, let's list the stuff I've gotten done this year.

1. Epic birthday party, complete with rock star karaoke moment in which complete strangers acted as my impromptu back-up dancers.

2. Paid off the most expensive piece of art I've ever purchased, a piece that I looked at for more than a year before finally making it my own.

3. Paid down credit card significantly. Charged back up. Paid back down again. And charged back up. And now am paying down again.

4. Epic trip to Las Vegas that included seeing TWO Cirque de Soleil shows (O and KA), an amazing chef's tasting menu dinner, trip to the spa at Ceasars, and getting a complete outfit from the Betsey Johnson store.

5. Epic trip to Las Vegas that also included conceiving a child.

6. Got engaged!

7. Worked Renaissance Faire in fabulous new costume, managed not to kill anyone.

8. Learned new meaning of pregnancy scare: when one is pregnant and has bleeding. Survived it. Handled it with aplomb, even.

9. Planned a wedding. IN JUST THREE MONTHS. While working. While being pregnant.

10. Got married.

11. Went to Cabo for honeymoon.

12. Found a new place to live.

13. Started packing up boxes.

14. Figured out most of the things I will need for the baby.

15. Learned how to cook risotto. Kinda pales in comparison to the other things, but -- it was cooking risotto using stock I made myself from a chicken that I roasted myself that got Jeff into feeling this whole family thing more. Plus, a list of 15 just FEELS better than a list of 14.

So, there you have it. Stuff I've done this year so far.

So, it hit me after looking at strollers yesterday, I don't know how I'll accomplish anything by myself ever again. The idea that, at some point, I am going to have to get my infant son and his stroller into the car is overwhelming. I don't have enough arms.

And, my wonderful husband keeps assuring me I'm not doing this alone. I'm not. But, at some point, there will be tasks that I have to complete while he is at work. Or in the bathroom. Or out doing something else that needs to be done for us.

And it scares me.

Who is this person?

I'm becoming someone else. A mother, obviously. And that's a good evolution. And yet, I'm afraid that I'm going to completely lose me as I knew me before. I'm not sure when it happened, but I guess I kind of started to like that girl.