Welcome to My Personal Hell

Tonight is the Holly Ball. Seems like we just had one. Hormonal sixteen and seventeen year olds get together for the opening of the Christmas season with a big fancy ball.

At 5:15, I have to be dragged into the "picture party." If you think Brad and Angie face an onslaught of paparazzi with flashing camera lights, you have seen nothing until 18 girls with 18 dates showup at the biggest house in Buckhead with 2 parents apiece, each armed with the biggest, fanciest cameras known to modern photography.

The photographic record of this event is more substantial than any other orchestrated event in modern history.

Remember, people, this isn't even prom. This is the Holly Ball.

And my sworn duty is to take as many pictures of the lovely and charming Prep (my Prep, with her date, without her date, with her friends, without her friends, with her father, by the Christmas tree, with the cheerleaders... well, you get the idea. And maybe, just maybe, there will be a picture with me. ) to be posted later on some social networking page for all to view, including all the colleges she is applying to next year.

I get to socialize tonight, too. What a lovely way to end Thanksgiving holiday. And to think, I don't have to do it again until April when we have prom to look forward to.

I Need a Wife

Yesterday, after spending $397.00 at the pediatric dentist and $4 on parking, I went to refill PrepGirl's allergy prescription (Zyrtec) to the tune of $50. Instead of waiting, I told them I would pick it up later. After dinner, I sent Prep and LawyerBoy and BrownBear to the pharmacy. Between CVS, the Movie Gallery and home, they lost it. WTH? They can't find it at the CVS. I haven't called the Movie Gallery because the children assured me they didn't take it in the Movie Gallery. They didn't bring it in the house. Now where in the world could it be? I thought that between the three of them, they could get this one little bag home. Was I wrong or what?