The other thing that happened was I remembered that I'm seven months pregnant, which apparently makes it like, harder to do stuff than usual. Or something. All I know is that in the middle of setting up for the party that morning I realized that it was taking me about a million years longer to get things done than it should, thanks to all the waddling. Ordinarily I posses a magical hyper-speed setting that makes Joey accuse me of being a humming bird or a teleporter or something. But I guess there is no magical hyper-speed at seven months pregnant, and so I didn't have nearly enough time to get everything set up.
Which made me frustrated, which activated the Pregnant Lady Crying Reflex.
FORTUNATELY my mama had Ariel with her all morning, taking her to dance class and French braiding her hair for the party, so Ariel had no idea that her mother was weeping because It Might Be Too Cold For An Outside Party Today or muttering cuss words at things like tablecloths and the wind.
Nope. As far as she knows, it was just an epic, pony-riding, hoe-down-having, rootin'-tootin' cowgirl party for her and fifteen of her closest friends. "You are my GREAT Mama!" she informed me contentedly afterwards.
He is my GREAT husband, that one.