WHERE'S MY LIPSTICK DAMMIT?!?
I've officially taken Reagan to her first kiddie birthday party. Does that mean I've crossed over to that side of life where I need to get a mini van and dress in all pastel? Should I have a cardigan tied around my shoulders? What's the deal? This is all new to me. Before yesterday I was pretty comfortable just hanging with the roo (her nickname) and being pretty isolated from all the "soccer mom" type activities.
Does this also mean that I've been accepted by the "pack"? Did the women at her playgroup hold a secret meeting in a kitchen somewhere? Did they break out the Martha Stewart Living magazine and pray over it? Did they drop a ball of yarn and some knitting needles and depending on the way it landed determine whether I was accepted? I just don't really understand!
I was sitting at the bowling alley last night (where the party was held) just looking around in awe. It's like that sticker that says: "Come to the dark side, we have cookies."
Well, looks like I have started down a lavender colored path filled with scones, Paula Deen and all Organic products.....
That picture is not me, nor will I ever look like that.
7 hours ago