Special thanks to Heather for making me feel like the pretty girl at the prom and inviting us to share a table with the cool kids.  And while she threatened to rip my "Stay at Home Blogger" tshirt from my body, I apparently forgot to mention that I am selling them for $15 over at Baby Brewing.  She will get one for free because she is so very nice and she was the very first person to tell me that she had read my blog. 

Other than the fact that The Boy is the spawn of Satan, this is going much better than expected.  I mean, I have only burst into tears once today and the fried chicken at the lunch buffet hit the spot.  Weight Watchers was clearly not on staff for the menu selection.  Did I mention I had chocolate cake for dessert?  Now all I need is that 52 oz. bag of M&M's I saw at BJ's the other day.

OK, so The Boy isn't bad.  In fact, he has been entertaining.  Inappropriately entertaining, but entertaining nonetheless.  We had to leave the last session (with 700 women) because when the sponsor (American Greetings) was commenting on how AG had been in the business of connecting people for over 100 years, The Boy yelled, "YEH!!!!!!  and clapped his hands wildly.  Special thanks to all the 699 women who laughed, because then he had to do it repeatedly.  It's OK, because I was in the seat farthest from the door, so he was able to do it 4 more times before I got out of there.

"But Kristen, I thought you were taking him to BlogHer daycare" you say. 

Yeah, right.  After convincing Jessica how absolutely FABULOUS the small crowd was over there, I went back with The Boy's diaper bag, only to find him hysterical.  Jessica's baby Katie was sweet and never made a peep  after Jessica dropped her off.  In fact,  I think she is stll there.  The staff was amazing, but I'm not doing that to myself or The Boy or the other kids who are socially adept and can go 11 minutes without Mom.  After his short stint in the land of fun toys and even funner staff, The Boy will have to be surgically removed from my body in order for separation to occur now.  We are talking conjoined. To add insult to injury, there is a woman here with a 15 month old that sits quietly during sessions, and fell asleep like a rag doll in her sling.  I think his head may have landed in the salad bowl at lunch and he still didn't wake up.   

I caught sight of the specific A-lister that was the object of Marelle's desire and had an urge to take one of those freaky camera phone shots the paparazzi take of Britney that are ass-level and make her look like she is an actual carnival mirror image, but then I thought that I didn't want to read about my behavior on 30 blogs tomorrow ("OMG, did you see that whack taking camera phone pictures?").  For God's sake, I met Paul McCartney once and didn't ask for HIS autograph.  What the hell were you thinking anyway, Marelle?  You and me listened to a lot of Amy Grant in high school together so I had better be your biggest blog crush. 

The Boy sleeps.  Finally.  I wish I had brought a blender to this party.  This day has "Target run" written all over it.  It's about time for a pina colada, Baby.