First of all, thanks for all the LiveFeed votes – we made it to the finals! This means I’ll be bugging the hell out of you for even more votes during the last week of February when Ideablob holds the final voting for the $10,000. There’s free music in it if you vote! I’ll be posting the details on the LiveFeed blog as I get them.

Now, back to normal. Whatever that is. We have a rather abnormal situation on our hands today – my kid’s having her first sick day from school. I think she’s had a low-grade cold bug for awhile that’s been drug to the surface by severe overactivity. She’s normally out of school on Friday. Last Friday, we spent a good chunk of the day with several of her classmates at a Chuck E. Cheese knock-off … but much better than Chuck E. Cheese because they didn’t have terrifying animatronic singing animals. We could actually partake in adult conversation while our little monkeys ran amok.

Yesterday, Brian took her to the Y and she swam for an hour. I stayed home and snorted Sudafed like a back alley junkie.

Saturday, Brian took Clara Jane to a model train show way out in St. Charles. This was her idea; she saw a commercial for it and asked to go. I stayed home with my own respiratory crud.

Brian and I have a policy of teaching Clara Jane one thing about commercials -  they lie. A lot. Friday night, she told Brian that she had gone to Chuck E. Cheese. He corrected her and said that she went to a locally-owned, independent purveyor of pizza and fun.

Clara Jane: But I would rather go to Chuck E. Cheese. It’s the best place for kids to be. (Mind you, she’s never set foot in a Chuck E. Cheese.)

Brian:  Where did you hear that?

Clara Jane: On TV. (Not even a real commercial; she was talking about the “This program paid for by” spots on PBS.)

Brian: What do we say about commercials on TV?

Clara Jane: blankly stares

Brian: They lie.

Clara Jane: But what about the commercials for the model train show? (Which were cheapy local spots that give the basic info about the show without embellishments regarding the life-changing properties of the show.)

Brian: blankly stares.

She’s busted us. Oh well. She’ll be five in a few days. I’m surprised it took her this long.

Speaking of which, her presence in the house today is biting into my birthday party-planning mania. How manic is it? So manic that I don’t even want to reveal the theme here because it’s just that cool!

Okay, it’s not that cool. It’s not italics cool. But it’s pretty snazzy, especially considering our lack of bounce houses and live reptiles.

I should be making tiny pinatas today. I’m not, and this is causing the mania to turn to panic.

Each year, I grow to dislike the proximity of my kid’s birthday to a major holiday more and more. Her birthday’s February 15th. This year, it’s sandwiched between Valentine’s Day and President’s Day. The problem: I can’t figure out when to do her school birthday party. Her class has their Valentine’s Day party on the last day of school before her birthday. No way am I inflicting a double dose of cake on the parents of the kids in her class. Or myself, for that matter. But because of President’s Day, she won’t be in school until two days after her birthday and my God, when did a fifth birthday turn into such a three-ring multi-celebration circus? Most of the kids in her class are coming to her party this weekend. Granted, the school party would provide an opportunity to slip little RSVP reminders into their cupcakes, which would most likely relieve me of my party-planning responsibilities for the rest of Clara Jane’s minor years. Birthday fortune cookies in which the fortune slips say, “Hey! Call Clara Jane’s mom, already!” might work, without getting me into legal trouble.

A part of the problem is, I really like parties. Saturday night, Clara Jane and I made goodie packages for her class’ Valentine’s Day party. I could have taken pictures of the process, like the wonderful craft porn on Craftershock and Bethany Actually and Whimsy Girl, whose party ideas I’ve stolen with abandon for the tiny tot birthday soiree. However, their photos are inspiring and so gloriously crafty-porny that I can’t hold onto my camera for the slipperiness. My photos would involve backgrounds of Brian chasing the dogs out of the goodie packages, a borderline sick kid crying for store-bought lollipops, and me in my pajamas with no bra, frantically counting and recounting to make sure my kid hasn’t put four heart-shaped erasers into one little red Chinese carry-out box. Not inspiring, pretty, or condusive to positive RSVPs.

Today’s tiny goal: get the tiny germs and microbes and viruses out of my child so we can get on with this week of parties, dammit! We’re off to the pediatrician this afternoon, along with half of the metro St. Louis area, judging from the amount of time I was on hold.  Perhaps once the cough syrup kicks in, I’ll put Clara Jane on tiny pinata duty. It’s about time she earn these blow-out bashes.