Like everyone else, I wanted to do something Significant yesterday to mark Obama's inauguration. Going to DC was out, of course. With the too-bitter-for-a-baby weather in Atlanta and pre-school pick-up to think about, I couldn't even go to Centennial park downtown to watch the oath on a jumbotron. And the local democrat bar was too smoky for Plum. So at the last minute, I invited some girlfriends in similar straits over for lunch in front of the tube. After dropping LaLa at school, I dashed to the store for an all-American meal -- fried chicken and apple pie. Then we all huddled in our little TV room with three babies and two toddlers and strained to listen to our new leader as the kids cooed, cried, and crashed about the room. Tears were shed as Obama finished his address. We all cheered when W. climbed onto that helicopter. We ate too much pie. Then we rushed through nursings and diaper changes before dashing out again to pick up our big kids from school.