For my fans Dad

My dad asked why I wasn't blogging and the answer is because I still haven't found my camera battery charger. I have a hunch it's in one of the suitcases stored in the basement but there's no way I'm going up against those cobwebs by myself. Plus, I don't even know where the lightswitch is down there. Another thing I can't find is very much energy/creativity to write any posts. Really, at the end of the day, writing about Jenna's food, sleep and potty issues is pretty boring for both the writer and the reader.

But, one evening last week was kind of different. My nieces had their first swim meet and after that was a youth dance I was asked to chaperone. So, I got "dressed up" (a.k.a. actually doing my hair, wearing something other than sweat pants and a t-shirt and putting on a necklace). Jenna stayed with Jake so I had the whole evening to myself. The swim meet was fun.... minus the crack provided by the lady in front of us and I'm not talking drugs here. Cover up, lady. Seriously. This is a family event.

Then there was the dance. At first, I honestly had all the same feelings I did as a 15-year-old. You know.... that anxious "Where-are-my-friends-do-I-look-cute-enough?" kind of feeling. I walked into the cultural hall and immediately started looking for the Young Women's president who asked me to chaperone and got slightly skittish when I didn't see her right away. But we met up and she gave me the run down and introduced me to the girls from our ward. And then she left. And I was standing there. All. by. myself. And then I remembered, "Hey! I'm a chaperone. I don't need to look cool. It's not like anyone's going to be asking me and my pregnant self to dance!" And yet for the hour I was standing there alone, I kept wondering when in the heck my sister was going to show up. She was also asked to chaperone and my eyes were glued to the door, willing her to walk through it so I wouldn't be by myself anymore. She finally came and I was much better after that and even resisted the urge to link arms with her and run to the bathroom to make sure my lipgloss still looked good. It was fun to be at a dance with her, something our nine-year age difference prevented us from doing before. We compared youth dance stories about running out of the room during slow songs, moshing (we may not be able to dance but we know how to jump!) the wanna-be break dancers, and the songs they've been playing at every dance since the invention of dancing (Y.M.C.A. Cotton-Eyed Joe and Loveshack). I wasn't doing much dancing that night, partly because the extra pounds I'm packin' these days make it somewhat awkard for me and anyone who might be watching and because I didn't want to make a fool of myself in front of my sister!

When the dance finally ended, I rounded up the girls I was driving and we headed to their leader's house for a sleep-over. The conversation in the car revolved around who they danced with, what boy's face touched theirs when they took a picture and what they were going to wear on day two of this youth conference. Because "Oh. My. Gosh. Glitter on our eyes would be sooooooo super cute!!" I was laughing, partly because I was the exact same way as a teenager and partly because being at a social event still made me feel insecure after all these years. After dropping them off, I breathed a sigh of relief because I'm so glad I'm past that point in my life where I worry about what boys think of me or if they know I exist! Don't be jealous girls, but my boyfriend now isn't gonna dump me when he sees my unglittered eyes.