I’ve been thinking about my upcoming birthday. I love birthdays and parties in general. But awhile ago (probably in between children #1 and #2), I realized it was no longer about me. My focus was on the kids’ parties. My birthday has been taking a back seat for quite some time. And thinking about my impending day of birth gets me a little depressed. Not because I’m getting old — that goes without saying — but because I started thinking about how I could celebrate it.

And before I go on (since some of you may be rolling your eyes) I should state that this is not a pity party. BUT, what I do know is that I want to remember every year that goes by. The years are flying by at the speed of light, and if I don’t remember myself, who I am, then I won’t be a fulfilled human being — and, thus, not the best mother I can be. So this year, I’m going to plan every detail for my party, because as history has shown, no one else is going to do it for me:

• There will be cake. I will make it. It will have nothing to do with Paw Patrol or Hello Kitty.

• There will be champagne. I will drink it. All of it. OK, well, maybe just a bit — who are we kidding, my tolerance isn’t what it used to be!

• There will be presents. I will purchase myself something pleasing. Maybe a piece of clothing, as I generally seem to forget that I need clothes. The kids, however, never go without.

With age comes wisdom. I am the only person who will make me happy, so I’m making it happen. No need to be a martyr ladies (and gentlemen) — make your cake… and eat it, too!