always welcome

There's a story in the December issue of Domino about how to come to grips with having overnight guests. The author is certainly not the loving BFF who'd let you crash on her couch on an unexpected layover or the one you'd call when you lock yourself out of your apartment, again, at 3 a.m. To remedy the problematic (and no-fun) state she's put herself in, she hires a sort of "hostessing" coach to help her conquer her hostessing fears/annoyances.

Though I appreciate the writer's new-start efforts, I can't help but roll my eyes a little; totally can't relate.

This is why: I'm direct stock of a woman who is a, if not the, hostess with the mostess. My mom constantly, unquestioningly lets visitors in with open arms--her home is a frequent stop for cousins stranded at the Salt Lake airport, college roommates with nowhere to go on Thanksgiving break, and any other straggler who needs either a place to bunk-up or a step-in Mom. In these times of woe and desperation, Pam is undeniably your gal.

The only good thing about having a husband who has to work graveyard shifts is getting to sleep at her house on occasion. Truthfully, any girl is lucky to spend a night in the "A" home. Mom changes the Ralph Lauren sheets, always perfectly crisp--they never stay in the dryer too long--which are then topped with one light blanket, one quilt and about a gazillion down pillows. She sets out piles of clean, soft towels. She leaves candles by the bedside next to copies of feel-good reads like "Simple Abundance," family photos (she's plugged in a headshot of Jamie who would usually be my pillowtalk partner), and a satin sleeping mask--the kind you see rich ladies wear in '80s films: blonde babes living on yachts, their golden tresses spilling out the sides and over the top of the fabric covering their eyes.

Best of all, most of these tactile comforts come in shades like blush and bashful. The upstairs bedrooms and bathrooms have been totally girled-out; the more pink, the better. I relish in my cute, comfortable nest despite a sensory overload.

So, tonight, before I turn Jamie's old bedroom into my office, I have to capture the essence of a sleepover for all of you. It's perfectly twee (to quote Marta, who would totally appreciate Pam's efforts). In fact, to not write this post right now (and attach photos) would be to deny many of you the rights of adoration you deserve as women.

The gorgeous Brussels Griffon, who makes a snuggly bed partner, puts the icing on the too-cute cookie. Either that or the MarieBelle hot chocolate Mom will brew up for you and serve in a vintage Hershey's mug she's had since I couldn't reach the countertops. Mom, you're the best and I'll always love having company because it makes me feel like I'm being you.