So I was taking some shots yesterday, and my camera misfired. (Read: I blew the shot) I found the outcome quite humorous and thought I would share. Yes, I do have freakishly long finger toes (Can I get a whoop whoop, Jamey? She's my FLFT sistah) three kids=not a problem. Escaped child + arms full=grabbage with the toesage. I can type on the computer with these little piggies...

But my belly is, uh, starting to get in the way...

Onto my story: Setting: our living room  / Characters: Me, Aiden

I was wearing one of THOSE shirts. You know. The kind of tops that aren’t really meant to be maternity, but feel nice with those pj bottoms I keep donning around the Mills sanctuary. If I were to escape the confines of the house in said shirt (say, to check the mail) someone may refer to me as “white trash.” I’m not sure why. I think an elderly neighbor screamed that out of her car window the other day as she passed…

A seemingly innocent tank top until weighed down by my unfortunately new bulbous figure. Not really what one could refer to as my “style.” Guess I’m not really into the whole show-off-more-than-anyone-cares-to-see-until-they-find-themselves-spontaneously-dry-heaving sort of thing. I could wear stretched-beyond-elastic-limits tank into a bar, a-la-Joy from Earl (or even Picadilly, for THAT matter) and probably manage to pick up an oh-so-sketchy person…who just so happens to be someone’s grandfather. Whilst pregs. Thus the white trash appeal…wow I totally over explained this one.

I was playing with Aiden on the floor.

Aiden: {gazing up at me with his crystal blue eyes, oh-so-innocently} “Mommy?”

Me: {Semi aware of his latest attempt at engagement in conversation as I was busying myself with the Candy Land set up: it has to be JUST RIGHT! I get to be the PRINCESS! NO AIDEN-go back to the ORANGE SQUARE! Stinking CHEATER!!!} “Yes?”

Aiden: “Mommy,” {Now with the all too familiar smirk on his face…his eyes alight, as if he were quite satisfied with himself for coming up with this profound conclusion all by himself.} “You have two booties.”

Me: “Uhhhh-“ {At this point I thought he was going to refer to my actual somewhat enlarged hind quarters…THANKS kid-you’re DEFINITELY not winning this round. EAT IT!!!}

Aiden: (continuing in his revelation) “See?” Pointing at the top of my chest. Tracing the subsequent line he could see running down into my, uh, area…which disappeared into my shirt… “There’s a booty crack. Right THERE. You have TWO booties!” He giggled slightly, completely pleased with himself. Then, as suddenly as it came, it passed. He was now reengaged in our current activity. No longer interested in my woman parts.

Me: {deciding its best to run with it rather than breaking out the 80’s Childcraft books to show him the distinct differences via illustrated references of boys v. girls… Yep. That would be the UNSTABLE thing to do…} “Yes. Yes, Aiden. Mommy has two booties.”

And back to our classic Milton Bradley’s board game we went… the land of rainbow slides, gumdrop allies, and mommies with two booties. Ahhh, the new revamped 4-D deluxe addition! What a happy place.

As usual, we have more mousal movement for you today...

Nursery Sneak Peak

Inspirational Photos

Easter...FINALLY!