I have a few things I need to admit.

1. I watched QVC today. This is embarassing to me. (In case you don't know what QVC is, it's like the home shopping network, only it's like the crafty channel instead of selling those knives that cut through pennies and stuff; they sell like overly-bright ink daubers and the like.) The reason I turned it on is because I got an e-mail from Creating Keepsakes that there would be some scrapbook thing featured on there - I can't even remember what. But I thought I would try it out. I sat Eva down with me and we watched it.
But the worst thing I have to admit is: I actually wanted to buy something. I know, embarassing. The main reason I didn't buy the thing I wanted to buy (which was, FYI, a 580 pack of chipboard letters - like I really need that much chipboard!) is because I didn't want to have to say that I have bought something off QVC.
Mainly because I picture the people that buy that stuff to be ultimate losers sitting at home on the phone trying desperately to buy all this junk that isn't even sold in stores. Maybe there's a reason: like the stores don't want to sell it because normal people won't buy it. I have a picture of a fat, older woman on an old, faded chair covered with a dirty afghan, late at night, eating Cheetos (the puffy kind that get your hands really messy and orange) and hanging onto every word these cheesy QVC people say. Terrible, rude, judgmental, and probably untrue, but that's what I think of. So anyway. Although I do have to admit that I actually watched it, I, thankfully, do NOT have to admit that I bought anything. Crisis averted.

2. I am a wimp. I couldn't cut it, and today I wilfully QUIT the South Beach diet and ate several handfuls of chocolate Teddy Grahams. Eva has been eating them for two days, and the temptation was just too strong. Plus, I hate being hungry because I'm too lazy to cook a healthy meal, when all I really want to do is have a bowl of cereal for breakfast. Or maybe a graham cracker or two. That's all. I don't like having to think about food all the time - the food that I CAN'T eat. The diet does work - don't get me wrong - but I just can't do it right now. I am WAY too into cooking and food (and sweets...guess I should include that since I'm being so brutally honest) to restrict myself like that. So here I am, 6 pounds thinner and a whole lot hungrier. I think I'm going to go watch "Biggest Loser" and have a (small) bowl of ice cream. Things are back to normal.

3. Eva is 18 months old today. Where did the time go? But honestly, I'm not one of those sweet, sentimental people who long for the baby days. I have to admit that I don't like newborns. It's not that I see other people's babies and think, "Eww, a newborn," but I just MUCH prefer age 6 months and older. I can't wait for Leighton to get older. I love him, of course, but he will be so much more fun at 6 months. So I wouldn't trade Eva's 18 months for anything else. I love her this age, and I'm so glad to be here. I don't ever want to do those baby days over again. Unfortunately for me, I do plan on having a few more kids. Thankfully, the newborn stage doesn't last forever. (Even though it feels like it...)

4. I am a nerd. I am starting a playgroup for the girls in the ward tomorrow, and for the first week we are meeting at my house. I feel the same way I felt the night before my first day of first grade. "What should I wear? What will they think of me? Will they like my quiche and blueberry muffins? Will they complement me on them? Will they think my house is cute? Will they want to be my friend?" I know. I even - and this is embarassing - got all excited and nervous calling them on the phone to tell them the time and place. Like, my heart was pounding, and when I got off and looked in the mirror, I saw that my cheeks were flushed. As if I was talking to a cute boy and I'm 14 years old. I know, I'm lame. But seriously, I really hope they like me...just don't tell them I admitted to acting all twitterpated over a bunch of mothers coming to my house for brunch with their children. How embarassing.