Domestic Goddess Status Cruelly Revoked

I was feeling pret-ty good about myself today. This afternoon I single-handedly arranged and supervised a fairly spontaneous pool party for four little girls. Everyone had fun and no one got hurt (it was looking a little wild with the slide for a while!). A smashing summer success, if I do say so myself.

Then I bathed my children and cooked a healthy yet delicious meal of fajitas. Noting that we only had one tortilla left, I easily whipped up my own homemade whole wheat tortillas. Impressive, right?

As I carried the food to the table, basking in my own glory, I actually started composing the blog post about my triumphs in my head. It (and this is embarrassing, but we here at Running the Race are committed to the whole truth) went something like this: "Mommy is a star! Mommy is a domestic genius! Mommy's got it going!" (and so on ad nauseum).

I think my pride is where I went wrong. Or maybe I'm just not cut out for domestic goddess-ship. Because it was about at this point that I thought I should look for what Amelie had been doing during my self-admiration.

Amelie had gotten ahold of the sunscreen left out for our pool party. Amelie had carefully applied the aforementioned sunscreen all over Baby Grandpa.

Isn't there some important book that says, "Pride goeth before a fall?"