Side effects commonly associated with this phenomenon are extreme stress, sleep deprivation, unexplainable outbursts of tears, lack of food, cash deprivation, inability to walk because of cute shoes, panic, frozen extremities because of refusal to cover up cute dress. It is especially not advised if you are five months' pregnant, have recently started a new business, and don't have a dime to spare. <

Keeping this warning in mind, it is also fair to note that you may also have one of the most memorable nights of your life, fall in love with your spouse just that much more, and be reminded about the most important things in life by your childhood idol. Oh - we can't forget the stars. You will definitely be among stars. <

It's Feb. 26, and I'm reading e-mail one last time before bed. There's one from a friend that reads, "URGENT! PLEASE READ!" OK ... reading... "Would you and a guest ... accept star treatment ... in Los Angeles ... for the Academy Awards." <

Hold on. Let me check. I ask my husband calmly, "Honey? How would you feel about going to L.A. this weekend for the Oscars?" He replies "OK." He then realizes that I'm not kidding. We stare at each other and begin to smile weird smiles in confusion. <

I type "YES!" and hit reply. And it begins. ... <

AHHH! What was I thinking?! We can't get ready for the Oscars in 48 hours! This "free" trip to the Oscars provides many things: flight, hotel, tickets to the hardest event to get into in the world. But there are many things not covered. I watch "Entertainment Tonight" - I know that to attend the Oscars one must have a dress the price of a small car. One must have painfully cute shoes, jewelry, security guards to watch the jewelry, and the perfect bag to match. Now, let me check my closet .... nope! <

My head is spinning. What do we do? The invitation has been accepted, it's too late to back out now. My background is theater, I am a singer/songwriter and my career for the past seven years has been in advertising, so I attempt to use what I know... creativity! I begin sending e-mails all night long to several fashion design Web sites, as well as every maternity wear and major runway designer that I could find contact information for, telling my story and asking for help. The next morning, powered only by adrenaline, I start calling potential sponsors for a tux, shoes, my hair, Rob's hair, and jewelry; after all, that's the way the stars do it - only they have sponsors calling them! I'm not a star, but I do have the red carpet, and as I have no dimes, the only payment I have for all the amazing people who came to our rescue are my press credentials giving me the ability to say a very public, heartfelt "Thank you!" <

Friday, 8 a.m., no response from a designer. I search my closet hopelessly for anything that might "do." I try on outfits, while my husband watches helplessly (pregnancy and size 2 dresses equals tears). Rob lovingly attempts to convince me that I'm beautifully with child and not fat. Nothing's working. <

Later, after 30 e-mails and 40 phone calls, the phone rings with hero No. 1: It's Mona Astra Liss, the publicity director for A Pea in A Pod maternity wear. Mona says they would be happy to help me out, and their store in Beverly Hills would work with me on picking the right dress for Oscar night, which would be mine to keep. Finally, I feel that everything is going to be OK. (Thank you, Pea In A Pod!) <

With renewed confidence, I call Nedrebo's Formal Wear to see if they could help with Rob's tux. Teresa at their corporate office is delighted to say yes; send him over to the store and we'll have him all set in time for your flight tomorrow. (Thank you, Nedrebo's, hero No. 2!) <

My next call is to Rejuvenation Day Spa owner Tina Morschauser, who not only agrees to color and cut my hair but also to stay late, postponing her own weekend trip, to help. (Thank you so much, Tina, you truly are awesome! A definite hero No. 3.) <

I had also made a call over to DSW shoes; their yes took all day to come from corporate headquarters, but it came! They have me pick out five pairs of shoes to bring with me to try on with the dresses. The four un-chosen pairs I would return and the Oscar-winning choice they let me keep. (That was awesome, DSW Shoes! Hero No. 4.) <

Saturday morning. Rob is picking up his tux and getting his turn in the salon chair with a cut (again generously provided by Rejuvenation Day Spa). Then, laundry, packing, Mapquesting like a fiend, and running out the door to make our flight; all the while still on the phone tying up last-minute details. <

Finally. (Breathe with me.) We are in the air, on our way to Los Angeles, to attend the Academy Awards. There is a visible sigh of relief between us as we sit back with our tray tables in the upright position and know that there was nothing more to do for the moment but enjoy the inflight movie. <

Saturday, 6:45 p.m., L.A. time. We check in at our hotel and receive an envelope from the hotel safe, along with my A Pea In A Pod Oscar dress choices that had been sent over by Film Fashion, a company used for arranging this sort of thing. <

Our room is cushy and we relax before looking into what still must be accomplished. I'm on the phone again; this time to the Academy to get more information and our instructions, and my heart is sinking as I discover that all press photos needed to be taken and credentials and limo passes needed to picked up by 5 p.m. earlier that day. No exceptions. Our flight didn't arrive in Los Angeles until after the deadline and we didn't know to call the Academy until we opened the envelope at our hotel. <

No press credentials means no cameras, not even if you're Julia Roberts. But, for us, no press credentials means we have no way to be able to thank everyone who donated their services to help us at the last minute. No pictures means there would be nothing to show them that we were even there. Stress! <

Now. Don't feel too bad for us. We are still going to the Oscars tomorrow! But first, we must have a fashion show! I want every dress, but most were too big for my frame and would require alterations, which won't be possible as everyone in town is booked solid for Oscar day. We make plans to run to the Beverly Hills store first thing in the morning. <

Sunday. Oscar day! We find the Oscar-winning dress with the help of Joycelyn, the manager at A Pea In A Pod. The dress is a two-piece with a long, black skirt that fish-tailed in the back and a sleeveless top that flares out over the belly tied together with a truly sweet pink bow. It's sweet and sleek pregnant chic. We then race to the airport to recover Rob's tux (discovered missing at 2 a.m.!) and run! <

The official Getting Ready part. Note that a star's average prep time on Oscar day is three to six hours and that's witha team of six helping! We have no team and only one hour to go! So much work: showers, toenails to be polished. Hair to be put in dry rollers. (I think I missed a step. I glued them to my head. Tears.) Makeup by Rebecca Derringer and Estee Lauder. Little pink purse from Macy's bought secretly by Rob while I was in the shower; I love that man! Jewels by my great-grandmothers: a double stranded crystal necklace and tear drop crystal earrings. The jewels were perfect and priceless to me - beat that, Harry Winston. <

All right, we're off! It takes us forever as all streets surrounding the Kodak Theatre are blocked off and, because we missed our limo pass, we can't get closer than six blocks away. So we begin a long, sleevelessly cold walk, in very cute but painful pink strappy heels, that eventually turns into a run. Some old man yells to me, "Good luck, Miss!" We reached a barricade and beckoned the officers to let us through. "We're sorry, we can't let anyone through this way." We show our tickets to no avail. They point us in another direction. Frantic running leads to the same thing at barricade after barricade, until SWWWOOOP! - cute shoes don't have traction - down I go. The crowds lining the street collectively gasp watching a pregnant girl in an Oscar dress fall. I was shaken but not hurt (then it was pathetic; now, it's funny). We walk up to the barricade once more, and with tears rolling down my cheeks try again: "We're supposed to be on the red carpet, no one will let us through, we've walked for blocks because the streets were blocked off, no one told us where to go, the Oscars are starting, our tickets are right here and the red carpet is right there." The officers would have had to be heartless. They open the gate. Rob wipes my tears away and we approach The Red Carpet. <

Now, I have been blessed to have done many outstanding things, generally among the rock star crowd, but never before have I walked a red carpet. It's just a carpet, but it truly had a magic that had us forgetting the stress of the past 48 hours and nearly giggling. After passing many a gold statue and celebrity interviewer, we locate hero No. 5, photographer Gerard Burkhart. Having heard our dilemma, he does a full photo shoot of us on the red carpet. Rescued once again by human kindness; last problem solved, we had pictures! It's time to go inside, take our seats and be entertained by Billy Crystal. We are attending the 2004 Academy Awards! <

I can't tell you anything about the Oscars that you don't already know. We watched the same show. We were just IN the room you were watching. I can tell you that there are three levels of open bars that many attendees, including us, come and go from throughout the show. I can tell you that I watched Oprah Winfrey in a full-out run to make it to her seat in time. I can tell you that I experienced the ladies rooms of all three floors, and that's where I ran into the actress who plays Catherine Willows from "CSI," and where I was stopped by Cheryl Hines of HBO's "Curb Your Enthusiasm," who made me blush when she looked me up and down and said, "That is soo cute! They never had anything that cute when I was pregnant!" <

Everyone looked beautiful. It was lovely just to look around at all the non-stars as well as the stars; it was the best-dressed people-watching I've ever done. <

After the show, we make it to the main floor in time to join the applause for Bill Murray as he exits the theater. Then Julia Roberts - beautiful ... and that smile! Will Smith and his wife, Jada Pinkett-Smith. Then the hobbits, three in a row (so little and cute! Dwarfed by the crowd around them!): Elijah Wood, Billy Boyd and Dominic Monaghan. Our final lobby sighting is Nicole Kidman, who looked like something from another world, so beautifully surreal. <

Our path eventually leads us to the back exit of the building, where we find an oasis of palm-tree-like heaters, and stop to relieve the cold and my feet. A succession of stars stopped to share the warmth of our chosen heater with us: Jack Black, then Tim Robbins and Susan Sarandon. Naomi Watts and boyfriend Heath Ledger. Sean Penn with his Oscar in one hand and Robin Wright Penn in the other, along with his mom. We stand with them in the cold for a while, exchanging smiles and nods, Sean keeping the cold from Robin as Rob keeps the cold from me - just two couples, one of us holding a golden best actor statue. The heaters are a unifying thing. <

Later, in our search for a cab, we are directed to the lobby of the adjacent Renaissance Hotel, but our elevator only let us go to the fifth floor. We didn't know it yet, but we are on our way to the Academy's Governor's Ball. <

The ball is the ultimate who's who of who's whos. First to cross our path: Holly Hunter, then Jamie Lee Curtis, whose dress made her eyes look amazing and she had the best smile as she said "hello" to us. Then the train of hobbits again - this time, we said hello and congratulations and they were great with their "thank you's!" in return, so visibly happy. We then stood outside the ballroom doors, enjoying the music that was drifting out, with Hugh Jackman and his wife, and then Scarlett Johansson, and Eugene Levy and his wife, and then Johnny Depp and his love, Vanessa Paradis. <

We figure out that we had come in the back door. We heard the singer inside announce what we think is the last song. So we decide to go in, entering a magical place of endless tables covered in blue, with golden chairs, bouquets of something like 300 roses on half the tables and long rows of purple hyacinths and two other shades of violet-like flowers on the other half. There's Clint Eastwood doting on his mother, and dozens of other stars all around. We finally sit down at the edge of the dance floor to soak it all in, loving that we're sharing this together, and in awe that all of our stress, worries and pain has landed us here. <

We decide to walk around the ballroom a bit more, until I look ahead and freeze. In front of me sits Julie Andrews, my idol since childhood. <

(You need to know this before I go on: I've only ever had one celebrity idol and it's her: Maria. Mary Poppins. Eliza Doolittle. "The Sound of Music" was my first musical, my favorite movie and my inspiration into theater. Almost every audition for every role and every talent scholarship I ever received was achieved with a song done first by Julie Andrews.) <

OK - back to me being frozen and motioning to Rob with tears in my eyes and a look of amazement on my face. He says, "You should say hello," but I didn't want to disturb her, she was right there. Just seeing her was enough. <

But before I know it my (generally shy) husband is guiding me to her table and saying, "Excuse me, Ms. Andrews? Would it be all right if my wife said hello?" Then Julie Andrews turns to me so graciously and says "Of course!" while taking my hands. I explain to her all she had meant to me, trying my best not to act like an idiot. The conversation eventually comes around to my saying something about hoping that our baby would inherit our love of music, to which Julie becomes instantly animated, asking questions about the baby and the due date and. ... <

And then comes a moment I will never forget, as Julie Andrews, my idol, takes my hands in hers and places them upon my little belly and, looking up at me with her magical smile, says in her famous Julie Andrews voice, "This ... will be your greatest achievement." <

Wow. <

If the night had ended then, it would have been wonderful. But it just keeps being wonderful. After our conversation with Julie and her husband, Blake Edwards, I am floating on a cloud, so despite my feet, I beckon Rob to the dance floor and there we dance at the Governor's Ball. I am in the arms of the man I love, and Francis Ford Coppola is watching us dance, smiling with an "Isn't that sweet" look on his face. <

A charming conversation with Fran Walsh and Peter Jackson, and a final dance to Etta James' "At Last" is the perfect end to an unbelievable experience and a truly amazing night. <

Thank you so much to everyone who made this experience happen for us. You are a lesson in human kindness. <