Our church finished Revival last night and I have thoroughly enjoyed it–particularly the music by This Hope–however at one point during the proceedings I happened to notice a little old lady sitting in front of me whose head barely peeked above the back of the pew.

And then I thought she looked like ET, from the back, when he’d been dressed up like a woman by Gertie.

And then I was immediately sorry.

I try to be good.  Really, I do.  But sometimes it’s just so very hard.

In a couple of weeks my daughter will turn twelve so, naturally, the only thing which has occupied her thoughts for the past month is her birthday.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone get so excited about it and she does this EVERY year.  She’s planning, thinking, looking at pictures of cake on the internet, figuring out what she wants, what she wants to have for her special dinner, where she wants to go out to eat after church the following Sunday because it’s the one Sunday of the year which she can choose.

In short, she’s just about driven me crazy with it.

We finally settled on a murder mystery party–age appropriate, of course–and she’s got seven little girls coming over in costume to figure out the crime.  It’s set in the 1800’s, so we’ve done up the invitations, complete with the wax seal and have them ready to go today.  (Probably should have thought about the 100+ degree weather before that little stroke o’ genius, but…  ) 

“Okay,” I said, once the last invitation was ready.  “We’re not going to talk about your birthday anymore until it’s here.”

“But what about my–”

“We’re not going to talk about it.”

Pitful, whining, miserable face.  “But it’s my birthday!”

“Not. Yet.”

Yes, I am an evil mother.

Last night as I was making my nest in bed, it occurred to me that my pillows–all four of them–had to be just right for me to go to sleep.    I need two under my head, one between my knees and one to hug.  I only keep four pillows on the bed so you can guess how many that leaves my dh with.   (There’s an extra on a settee that he uses, before you all decide I am a pillow hog.  Which I am, but there’s no need for name-callin’.)  Anyway, this got me to thinking about other people’s pillow habits.  For instance, Kira Sinclair lugged her fluffy purple pillow all the way to Scotland.  The last time me, Jen and Vicki got togehter, Jen brought her pillow as well.

Hmmm.  I sensing a pattern here.  Clearly I am not the only one with pillow issues.  So…what about ya’ll?  Any pillow preferences?  Inquiring minds….  

(And it’s Free Book Friday over at the Soapbox Queens!)

“Momma, you just don’t know how hard it is.  You’re too old to remember.”

  Ya’ll excuse me while I go pick out a new pair of orthopedic shoes and a new tricked out walker.

Anybody else have any good kid quotes?

Because there was lots of buzz about having a myspace page at Nationals this year, I decided to bite the bullet and put up a profile.  My site hasn’t been tricked out yet, but Jen’s daughter–aka The Girl– is supposed to hook me up as soon as she finishes her homework.  Or sometime soon, anyway.   In the meantime, I would really appreciate it if you all would pop out and take a look.

And of course, friend me.  Please.

Also, I’m blogging at The Soapbox Queens today–double duty this week–so click on over there, too.  I’ve brought my pets to the Palace. 

First and foremost thanks so much to everyone for visiting The Soapbox Queens yesterday!  Our launch day was a roaring success with almost 100 comments.  Wow!  Evidently, you all like the idea of being Queens, too. 

Now for my humilation…

Earlier this week I spoke to the headmaster at my kids’ school about our new dress-code.  In short, it’s terrible.  So terrible, in fact, that I would prefer going to uniforms.  In an attempt to keep the upper grade girls from wearing baby-tees, they’ve made a blanket rule that none of the girls can wear shirts with images, numbers, letters, pictures, screens, etc…  As I told the headmaster, that eliminates 90% of the shirts in my daughter’s closet and she doesn’t own the first baby tee.  She has shirts with butterflies and flowers, etc…  Modest, of course.  We’re talking about a child who won’t wear a white shirt because–gasp!–you can see her bra under it.

Anywho…

In the course of the conversation the whole topic of name brands came up and she mentioned that they were trying to cut down on those as well–Aeropostale and American Eagle specifically.  (She also mentioned that her own daughter liked the polo shirts from Aeropostale.  This will be significant later.)  I explained to her that, thankfully, at the moment neither one of my kids are brand conscious.  Neither one of them really care, so long as their clothes are comfortable.  I told her that I don’t shop at Aeropostale or American Eagle.

That very night, guess who was on the 10 o’clock news strolling through Aeropostale?

Er…that would be me. 

I went in there to look at the polo shirts she’d mentioned, thus making a liar out of me.  I’m guessing my reasonable argument about the dress code lost some credibility.

I won’t have anything to whine about on Wednesday because, after MONTHS of preparation, Jennifer LaBrecque and Vicki Lewis Thompson and I will be launching a group blog entitled The Soapbox Queens.  Why the Soapbox Queens you ask?  Tune in and click over on Wednesday and I’ll tell you.   Jen, Vicki and I have a ball together and I can promise you that our blog will be just as fun.

 In other unrelated news, the bassinet I ordered for my sis is supposed to arrive via UPS today.  Here is a picture…

Now do you see why it’s so important???  Isn’t it gorgeous???

Squee!!!!!

…the level of my own stupidity amazes me.  Last night I was laying down, letting my daughter pluck my eyebrows because… 

Well, because I am lazy and she’s good at it.

Anyway, she hands me the mirror, I take a look and see a lone hair that she’s missed.  I asked her for the tweezers and promptly stabbed myself in the eye.  Apparently, plucking eyebrows while laying flat on your back isn’t a good idea.  

No worries, though.  I’m fine.  It hurt like several curse words last night–am making a concerted effort to clean up my language–but feels much better this morning.

Oy, vey, the things I can mess up.

Well, I picked up my copy of Harry at midnight Friday night and was home with my stash of Diet Mt. Dew, cookies and M&M’s by 12:30.  I’m going to read it again soon so that I can go through and catch all the things I undoubtedly missed racing to the end to see the conclusion.  I know there’s at least one person who regularly reads my blog who hasn’t finished the book yet, so please no spoilers.

In other news…I have to work.  Nothing like a Monday to give one that reminder, eh?   In the meantime, let’s play a little game.  Finish this sentence.

I wish I had a___________.

I don’t ordinarily do two posts in one day, but it occurred to me that I really need some help.  I’m hosting a baby shower for my little sister next Friday and while I have the traditional cake, nuts, mints, punch covered, I could really use some tips.  I haven’t done this in a while.  Like in almost 10 years, when I hosted her last baby shower.

So.

Any ideas?  Suggestions? 

Please.