Um...really?

Apparently this is Satan's Laptop...

I know I disappointed all of you (and by all of you, I mean my Mom) by not having my Total Truth Tuesday ready today. I was busy being all poked and prodded at my 30 week doctor's appointment. I'll get back in the swing of things tomorrow. In the meantime, enjoy this awesome product review my sister found for me at Target.com.

Click the image to make it easier to read.
You don't want to miss this one!

Where debit cards go to die.

Have you ever wondered what happens inside an ATM machine? I guess I always thought they were just a big glorified computer/calculator with a mini vault of money inside. But, I was oh so wrong.

So, in case you ever wondered, I thought I'd tell you what really goes on inside an ATM machine. Say, in the case of a person who accidentally leaves their debit card inside.

That way if you are ever on the phone with your mother trying to work out dinner details while simultaneously refereeing a fight between two kids in the back seat, driving through an ATM, and gestating a boy child you will know what happens when you take your money and receipt but fail to retrieve your debit card.

From what I have gathered, here is what happens. The debit card in question gets sucked back into the ATM of doom and is photocopied for record keeping purposes. It is then unceremoniously shredded to death thus relegating the card holder to a 3 week sentence of debit card free living. Those photocopies are kept in a drawer for an unsympathetic bank employee to rustle through before giving the news of said shredding to the hysterical debit card owner who may just so happen to be driving through rush hour traffic on a very busy highway.

That is what happens. It is not a pretty thing.

So, R.I.P. beloved debit card. Sadly, you are yet another casualty of this preggo brain. You will missed every single day for the next 3 weeks until your blessed replacement comes my way.

Things I didn't need to hear this week.

Friendly Tip of the Day: Always assume a pregnant woman is not as far along as she looks. And NEVER argue that she must be closer to her due date than she says. Really, it's for your own personal safety.

Over the last week or so, I've heard:

• So, are you due, like, any day now?

• I'll bet you're ready to have that baby by now.

• Wow! You really are big for 5 months!

• Yeah, I knew when I saw how big you were that you were having a boy.

• Your doctor must be wrong. Mark my words, you'll be having that baby in January.

--
I'd like to note that these things were said by 5 different people on completely different days. And, also for the record, I have lost 17 pounds this pregnancy and I am still wearing my regular jeans. Which I am saying only to make myself feel less like the huge pregnant whale I apparently resemble.

Though according to my husband, I look less pregnant now than I did before I was pregnant to which I say, Gee, thanks?

Marital Mind Meld

Thomas and I have been married six and a half years. And, while that may not sound like a long time to be married, let me tell you, folks, it can be.

We got married young amidst some family turmoil (that's another post for another day), survived some serious bumps in the road and we've been through much in our 6.5 years.

We've had some low lows and some great highs. We're very different people but largely on the same page. And though it may be a silly story, I can think of one story to illustrate how often we operate on the same wavelength.

About a year ago we were at a weekend retreat with our married couples small group. During a fierce game of Cranium Pop Culture in which Thomas and I were on the same team, we reached the pinnacle of same-mindedness. It was a beautiful and glorious moment.

The category was celebrities. Thomas chose the letter cubes to convey the clue on his card. He rolled a C. And, then, he looked at me knowingly and said, "Cumin!"

And, what was the first thing out of my mouth 2 seconds later? "The Spice Girls!"

It was a total Vulcan Mind Meld moment. And, ah, sweet victory.

I don't know whether we won the game (it's doubtful) but we did win a reputation for obscure spice knowledge and the ability to read each other's mind.

Because I have a highly developed sense of humor...

I have been laughing at this all day.



Forgive me. It's been a crappy Monday.

Just stick it up your butt. No, really.

I realize daily what a naive mom I actually am. I think I'm all tough and smart and, whatever, and them something like this happens and I realize I am just a big, fat sucker.

See, Kai HATES having her hair washed. Hates it. With a passion. And I know this. But, still, when we are sitting at the dinner table having mentioned it is a hair washing night and she suddenly falls ill with a teeerrriiibbblllle stomach ache what do I do? I believe her.

Of course I ask her repeatedly if this is for real or just a ploy to a.) get Pepto-Bismol (she's suck a med junkie) or b.) get out of washing hair. She assures me it is neither and proceeds to ball up and cry - with real tears - about how much her tummy hurts. So, I do what any good mom would do. I believe her. And I call our friend who is a nurse and ask her what I should do. Because this, I say, seems serious.

She gives me a solution that turns out to be the perfect fix though for reasons other than you might think. After asking a bunch of questions and discussing her day's bowel patterns (or lack thereof) she decides I should try a glycerin suppository. Which, I just happen to have in the medicine cabinet, thank you very much.

And, so I gently go to my precious sobbing writhing miserable 4-year-old and say, "Honey, Ms. Yvonne told me something that is going to make you feel better. I need to give you this medicine." If I'm honest, at this point, I am really worried because Kai is never sick and I'm thinking this must be really bad. Appendicitis bad. Perforated something-or-other bad.

She looks at me pitifully and opens her mouth so I can give her the medicine. And, then I speak the words that have healing powers over my child, "No, honey, this goes in your bottom."

Silence.

"In my BOTTOM?? No, I feel much better. My tummy says it is feeling much better. I think if we cuddle and watch Blue's Clues for a while I will be fine. How about that? Does that sound good, Mommy? Let's do that. I don't need that in my bottom."

And, it is at that point that I realize: I. have. been. had.

It is equal parts frightening and impressive the lengths my girl went to in order to convince me of the seriousness of her "tummy problems." So I react in the way any good mom would.

I give her the glycerin suppository anyway. And, now, I'm thinking she won't be faking a tummy ache any time in the near future...

I don't even want to know what Barbie was up to this weekend.

There is no telling what those toys are up to when we all go to sleep. But, this is how I found them this morning. It may be time for a 12-step Barbie...

I need one of these!

I love the cute shirts over at Swirl Syndicate and I have to say that this one is probably my favorite! The shirts all have lots of fun bi-racial humor (i.e. blender with chocolate and milk and the phrase "I'm swirled") and they are updating their store in March to include a bunch of new designs.

This one probably appeals to me most because I am most often mistaken for a sitter/nanny to my girls. In fact, when Kai first started school the teachers thought I was really very sweet to her for a nanny. They couldn't believe a nanny would love a child she watched so much. Pretty funny, I think. I've never really been offended when people assume I'm a sitter or that they're adopted because I secretly think it's pretty amusing. Why would I really care if someone asks me where they were adopted from since I know they're my girls? Which, incidentally, would be true even if they were adopted so maybe people should refrain from asking "are they adopted or are they yours?" to people - especially in front of the children in question. I know my girls are aware of people when they ask that question.

Still, these shirts would garner some fun reactions and I might have to fork over the $40 ($20 each) for a couple.

Holy Crap. Literally.

I found this over at Ragamuffin Soul.

It is hilarious and disturbing all at the same time. I'd love to know where his church is...

Horsing Around

I've really got to stop watching Dr. Phil. It seems like every time I do, Kai and Ivy get into some ridiculous trouble. Kai was supposed to be playing in her play kitchen. I checked on her and she seemed fine. But, at some point, she found the big huge heavy duty chisel tip Sharpie we used to make Yard Sale signs the other weekend and well, she got creative. Again.

She said she was playing horsey. But, she wanted to be the horsey. So, she turned herself into the horsey. Complete with hair and hooves. Check it out:




Did I mention this was a SHARPIE marker she did this with? Yep. Guess who's going to school tomorrow with black arms and a single black leg? I'll give you a hint:

Crack a smile, why don't ya?

This is Ivy's favorite way to walk around now. In public. At home. With friends. With strangers. She pulls them down like this on purpose. I guess she really is starting to look like her daddy...

Why you never give potted plants to kids...

Thomas took Kai out for a date for Valentine's Day and he bought the girls some flowers. But, in an effort to give them something that would last beyond Valentine's Day, he gave them flower plants.

Valentine's Day at our house was a bit crazy since I was still in the midst of my overambitious crafting project, and I let the girls play for a while on their own (you'd think I'd learn my lesson, right?). I went back to check on the girls and guess what I found? Yep, you guessed it. They eviscerated the plants. Luckily I was able to perform life saving measures and rescue the plants, but I was still left with a terribly messy crime scene. Oh, the humanity!

Happy Valentine's Day! (the fun edition)

Don't send a lame Valentine's Day eCard. Try JibJab Sendables!

Really?

I couldn't have predicted these results...

MyHeritage: Look-alike Meter - Family pictures - Making a family tree

MyHeritage: Look-alike Meter - Family history - Trace family tree

He's no grape lady, but...