Thank goodness for Dr.Wilma holding the fort up here while I perilously flop like the last goldfish cracker in a puddle of party ooze. I feel like the past two weeks have either been about attending children’s parties or throwing one. My pregnant state has made me such a mess. This preggo brain business is dangerous and can even result in costly mistakes.

Last week I spotted my check engine light turn on and then it laughed at me. I swear that’s what it did, first the light came on… and it was sort of giving me the stink-eye… and then there was an audible laugh. So I hauled ‘ol Murphy, the big, green station wagon of my mommy dreams, into our local mechanic. I was so stressed, what about the costs of throwing this party? Then I got a call in the early afternoon that I had left my gas cap off, forgot it last time I filled up… that’ll be $50… Thanks Mr.Mechanic for the $7 gas cap. Oh well, it could always be worse right? My husband was kind enough to say, “At least you didn’t drive off with the pump still attached to your gas tank.” Hurray, thanks sweetheart, you’re right, I’m not an utter moron just yet.

The big *sigh* I get to heave now is all about the result. The end result was a thrilled little 3 year old girl that thinks her birthday was the bomb, a blast, awesomely terrific. I seriously feel so thankful for her friends (and the moms of those friends that are in turn my friends) because that’s what it was really all about for her. This celebration would have been a flop all it’s own without her favorite little peers. Some came and walked to the nether regions of the giant SF Zoo, others came and partied it up at our house and both events have been discussed ad nausseum at our house since. We’ll see when she gets tired of hearing this story.

Now I get to go back to life as normal, thank goodness. Until my birthday anyway…