I can name that diagnosis in three symptoms

I am now one of those mothers.

Emily will be four in three months, yes I said months, and already I have begun planning her first party with friends as though it were some high society wedding. In my defense, and yes I realize that people with no defense are the kind of people that say things like, “In my defense,” this is a homemade party with a theme based on a literary figure. While I certainly have my shortcomings, buying plates and balloons with television show characters on them is not one of them, although I’m sure that day will come soon.

Obsessed...
The theme is Eloise, based on the Kay Thompson books. Well, it is more like tea at the Plaza with Eloise. Okay, it is really just “How much pink crap and candy can Emily get me to buy as long as she says that she wants it because she likes to read?” party. She knows that the “love of reading” button in me is huge and will let her get away with a multitude of sins.

Delusional...
Be that as it may, I am obsessed with all things Eloise and Plaza Hotel and black and white and pink. Emily and I have a pile of things to be made and this weekend I actually found myself looking at silver catalogs from my in law’s jewelry store and thinking that it seemed almost reasonable to order a bunch of fancy silver things on which to serve a roomful of four through eight year-olds sandwiches cut into dainty triangles. Perhaps we could skip next months mortgage payment and instead by a three-tiered serving tray. Perhaps I need more sleep.

I thought that these were the kinds of things that first-time mothers of single children did. Wasn’t I supposed to be over all of this now that number two is here and number three is working his or her way into conversations and negotiations? Wasn’t this sort of over-the-top behavior supposed to be gone by now?

Manic...
This does not bode well for the future. Emily and Claudia’s birthdays are six months apart. That means once I build a giant sugar cube replica of the Plaza in our yard, hire a middle-aged British woman to play nanny, and buy a pug like Weenie for Emily’s party, I will have six months to start building giant topiary pandas, or whatever we happen to read about by then, for Claudia’s birthday.

God help us if she starts loving Clifford The Big Red Dog.