***Update!!!!*** I am laughing so hard that I cannot stop.  I have decided that this needs to be a contest.  I have an exciting prize to give away tomorrow, and I am going to give away 10 of them.  Leave your comment here….I am going to choose my “top 10 funniest kid moments” and announce them tomorrow afternoon…..please leave your comment by 10:00 a.m. tomorrow (10/7). LOVE a giggly Monday. Thanks to everyone who is a part of it:)

I woke up Friday morning and had three panic attacks.  I honestly could not get out of my bed and I kept rocking and saying softly, “Jesus, Jesus, Jesus…”  I would start to feel a little better and then the panic would wash over me and I just had to beg Him to settle me again.  One of the ladies who spoke at the conference this weekend was discussing the fact that public speaking is more of a fear than death, and Jerry Seinfeld quipped years ago that “this means that if you are at a funeral, you would rather be in the casket than giving the eulogy.” I thought that was pretty funny.  Well, I didn’t think it was that funny on Friday morning, but I can laugh now because I can feel my legs again.

It was an awesome weekend.  The ladies at Southland did an absolutely fantastic job, and I feel like I have made friends for life.  We have already planned to get together in a few months:) I just felt so accepted, so free to just “be me,” so blessed to be a part of such a great event that honestly, I forgot to be nervous.  I walked in that room and I sensed the presence of the Lord. My spirit just settled and I knew it was all going to be okay. I was thinking of the encouraging emails I received, and the prayers I knew went into that room ahead of me, and it was a beautiful night.  It was a big leap of faith for me, and I want you to know that I am grateful for remembering me while I jumped.  I think God loves to take the things about you that you feel really insecure about and make you walk through them because you get to see the way He shows up. I am glad I was obedient, because I felt the presence of the Lord in a deep, meaningful way.  A way I would not have experienced if I hadn’t gotten out of bed.  Thank you, Lord.
Public speaking is a source of great anxiety for me, and an area that I do not have a lot of pride in.  I don’t feel like I do it very well.  I am insecure.  I told God that on the way to Lexington, and He reminded me of a story that involves me and my pride.  I am going to share it with you here, because I feel like if you have stuck with me this long, you are entitled to a good laugh at my expense.  
Several years ago, we bought a new house.  It is a nice house, and I was a little over-eager to show it off.  We were having company over one evening, and I had spent most of the day throwing clutter into the back of closets, hanging “skinny” pictures in strategic places, and making sure the bed linens were crisp.  I was flittering around the house, one room to the next, preparing my “image.”
Abby and Ellie, sensing my eagerness, decided that they wanted to help me “decorate.” They were 3 at the time, and while their intentions were good, they were really more in the way than they were helpful, so I shuffled them into a little space off of my bedroom that I use as a craft closet and I told them to work on it.  They were so content to have this little space to design, and I needed to fluff things. It sounded like a good plan.
I checked in on them every few minutes, but as it started getting closer to “company” time, I had to go put on my makeup, so I slipped into the bathroom in search of the right lipstick to impress the guests.
I will look like I have it all together tonight, that’s for sure.
They weren’t really close friends, so there was a chance I could pull it off.
And they were going to love my style (and, in turn, love me! Isn’t that the way the world works?)
Ellie comes and stands beside me, trying to get my attention.
“We made it pwetty, momma.”
“Mmm-hmm. I bet you did!” I am nodding like I am listening, but I’m distracted by my own reflection.  
“I can’t wait to see it.” Now for eyeliner. 
“We did the stickers.” Ellie is smiling.  She is really proud of herself.
“Oh, how great! Where’s Abbby?”
“She’s workin’ on it. Wanna see?” 
“Oh, baby, I can’t.  I need to get ready, but thanks so much for your help.” 
“You don’t wanna see it, momma? We were workin’ on it. It’s so pwetty”
“OK, honey, I’ll come see it soon.” I dart into the closet and leave her standing there alone in the bathroom.  I get dressed and brush past her again.
They kept chasing me around the house while I lit candles and vacuumed. They just wanted my attention, but I had a one track mind.  They were so proud of their work and all they wanted was to show it to me, and I was too busy to care. Too wrapped up in myself and my stupid house to listen.  Well, God was about to have the last laugh.
I am taking the guests around the house and showing them the layout, kicking any semblance of normalcy under the bed, telling about this and that and who knows what else.  The girls are dancing one step behind me because they know that the last stop on the grand tour is the master bedroom and I am going to show off their contribution.
I get to the little door and say something like, “And this is what I use as a craft room….” and before I can finish my sentence, I look into the room.
“We did the stickers, momma!!!” They are dancing around and clapping because they are so deliriously excited that they have thought to decorate with stickers, and the stickers are everywhere.
Only, they aren’t “stickers” in the traditional sense.  
They are maxi-pads.
And they are everywhere.
They are hanging from the bookshelf, from the windowsill, from my fabric, from my desk.  It is a maxi-pad party and it is happening.  To me. 
That sticky side is no mess, people, because they are hovering from angles previously unattempted by personal products. 
And I literally start laughing so hard that my children think it is a response to their genius decorating, and they are laughing and pointing and we all just fall on the ground, because really, what else can you do? You have the perfect blouse, the ideal neighbors, the gold record on the wall…..and NONE of it matters.  It is completely negated by the fact that this door just opened and your whole life, your real life, the ugly side of life, just fell out and smacked you on the head.
He had to smack me on the head.
If you have been to my house since the maxi-party of ’05, you will probably notice that I am more laid back with my entertaining style. 
And I am thinking of adding an interior design course for the little ladies. You know I’m not one to miss a learning opportunity…
I hope you got a good laugh out of that one….anyone else have a good “kid-humiliation” story?