It was a busy day!


We started the day off doing this:


and ended the day with this:


But as we prepared for the morning event and time ticked menacingly close to party time and Mommy needed a shower - bad - I turned into Crabby Mommy. You know the one? Have you been her too? I sure don't mean to be. I tend to wake in the morning resembling a tossled but relatively Happy Mommy. I mean, give me a coffee and look at all the things I can do - lick snowflakes from the sky, shine a flashlight on mossy mold and all! Yet, Crabby Mommy swoops in to ruin the pristine childhood memory-making, cookie-decorating party scene. I left a message for Becky tonite asking if God allows childhood amnesia for those Crabby Mommy moments. How, really, do you balance the necessary with ... the necessary?