Writing this post today was tough. My mind is still very much on my dear friend Anissa, who is still very much in need of your help and your prayers and your thoughts. You can visit AimingLow for some details on how you can help. Anissa is a fighter. SHE IS. and she’s going to wake up so we can tell her all about the Glee episode that she would have loved last night and how her boyfriend @ralphmacchio is now following her on twitter (he is GOOD people, that Danielson) and so I can tell her a good Emily story. I secretly think she’d totally fire me and hire her.

I really think she’d appreciate this.

I feel like it’s only a matter of time before Emily gets her very own blog and she’s writing things like, “ohmigod, you guys. MY MOM. She is, by far, the very worst dancer and singer on this entire planet, but it still doesn’t stop her from dancing around her room singing Thriller into her hairbrush while wearing nothing but her underpants. She is SO embarrassing.”

Or “Y’all, at the hockey game tonight, in front of all the cute boys in Josh’s class, I had to ask my mom to put her boob back into her shirt because, um, it was, um, falling out of her shirt. I will NEVER let that happen in front of MY kids. She is SO embarrassing.”

I am hoping that most of her blog posts are about silly things like, “oh, I fought with JoJo over whose pink tights were pinker. She says hers are and I say that mine are. Oh, third grade is such a challenge!!”

But, since you and I both know my Emily…

hers will be more like, “oh, I fought with JoJo today because her twin brother Charlie totally likes me. I mean, he LIKE LIKES me. But I’m not sure how I feel about him and ohmigod! I am suddenly on an episode of 90210…the vintage version that I watch on my mom’s dvr when she isn’t home. Oh, third grade is such a challenge!!”

oh my god, my child is the Kelly Taylor in this equation. Only I really hope we don’t go through the whole diet pills thing, or the getting shot thing, or the getting caught in a fire and amnesia thing, or the whole CULT thing.

Why is my 8-year-old NOT an 8-year-old? Tonight, on the way home from my Grammy’s nursing home’s annual Thanksgiving family jamboree (yes, *I* realize that Thanksgiving is NEXT Thursday, but, you know, she and her other homies don’t know that) (but my Grammy totally made me laugh by asking Emily how she was enjoying high school) the two other kids were acting like total loons and Emily was whispering something to Josh and I asked her to stop and she said:

“SORRY, MOMMY, I’M AN ENABLER.”

oh yes she did. She used the word enabler.

She is totally already a better blogger than I am. She better not get on twitter. Because you know that @anissamayhew and @ralphmacchio would totally be following her.