Dead last! I couldn't believe it. I am going to be in one of my best/oldest friend's wedding party, and I found out today that I was the ABSOLUTE LAST person to get her my dress size measurements.

On the one hand, I definitely feel ashamed of myself. These sorts of details are the kind that drive brides crazy, and given enough of them, probably ruin a fair share of friendships, too.

On the other hand, though, don't you think there's something memorable about being last? After all, weddings are full of opportunities for notoriety. The limo that breaks down on the way to the ceremony. The father that cries his eyes out the whole way down the aisle. The infamous toast that guests are still talking about. And the wildly drunken groomsman who cracks his head on the bottom of the pool during the post-wedding festivities.

Actually, all of those things really have happened...either in my wedding or someone else's (I'll let you guess). Every wedding has moments like these, totally unexpected incidents that - for better or for worse - live on in your memory forever.

As I was speeding to the David's Bridal in Milpitas for sizing during my lunch break today, that is exactly what I was thinking about. Notoriety. Now at the end of the day, my transgression - while certainly annoying - is really fairly modest. But who knows? Maybe this is just the beginning of my fateful climb to infamy. Hmmm.......

Keira just started swimming lessons at the YMCA, along with Tim, Lisa, and Claire. We go every Saturday from 9am to 9:30am, and it's been quite the adventure.

Her first class was only a couple weeks ago, and I was definitely a little anxious beforehand. What if Keira's swimsuit was too big? What if it was too small? Did I buy the right kind of swim diaper? Should I feed her breakfast early or late? What if she hated the water? What if she screamed and cried? What if she skipped her daily morning poop and poo-poo'd in the pool?!

Every possible scenario ran through my mind in the days leading up to her first class. Well, almost every scenario. There was one I didn't consider.

Keira's routine is rock-solid. She wakes up between 7am and 7:30am, gets a change of diaper and clothes, drinks down a tall bottle of formula, makes her morning poopie, eats breakfast at 9am, and plays until nap-time at 10:30am. To my immense relief, the morning of her first swim class turned out to be no different than usual. My only concern was breakfast; we needed to leave the house by 8:30am, and I wasn't sure if she'd freak out from hunger. After struggling over my options, I decided to feed her breakfast in the car on the way to the Y.

My baby is a GREAT eater. Felix and I have thrown ourselves whole-heartedly into the Super Baby Food book, and Keira has fresh food every day. Yams, broccoli, avocado, tofu, rice porridge - you name it, we cook it, and she LOVES it. Granted, her food is pretty overcooked to be super-soft, but it's basically normal "people" food.

That morning, Keira ate her usual hearty breakfast, and once we got to the Y, I joined up with Lisa and Claire in the locker room to get her changed. No problems. With the instructor's guidance, Felix and I both walked slowly down the steps into the pool, watching Keira carefully for a reaction. Again, no problems. She was cool as a cucumber and splashed her arms about as if we were just in one big bathtub.

As I floated little Keira's buoyant body around the pool and helped her kick her legs, I finally started to relax. She was having a good time! Nothing to worry about, right?

We were just nearing the end of the half-hour class when the instructor suggested we give the babies a chance to practice blowing bubbles. It's basically blowing razberries - which Keira is expert at - into the water. I got Keira going, imitating my own razzes, and then gently lowered her face to the water. Big mistake. She inhaled and immediately started gagging on some water.

Uh-oh....

Before I knew what was happening, Keira had thrown up. Bits of yam, broccoli, and nasty gobs of formula were now spread all over her bathing suit and my bathing suit, and quickly floating away across the pool.

Yuck. Total yuck.

Of course, Keira was totally at peace with the whole thing. Yakking doesn't bother her in the least. Felix and I, on the other hand, were nervously glancing around, hoping that no one else had noticed our serious faux-pas and trying to wave away the bobbing blobs of evidence before we were discovered. We snuck out of the pool like a trio of criminals, and I dashed off to the showers with my stinky baby in tow.

The best part is that I believe Lisa caught the whole affair on videotape. I haven't watched it yet, but what's the point of surviving these horrible moments of shame if you can't relive them for years to come?

Most importantly, I have added another lesson to my ever-growing parenting experience: you can imagine all you want, but you can simply never predict the surprises your little ones have in store for you. Sigh.