sweet comic valentine.

if you know my husband, then you know he loves to eat. i mean, i'll make tacos, and he eats the rest of the ingredients in a taco salad - this after eating 5 tacos already. where he puts it, i have no idea.

because i am like most normal people, i hate finding food in the fridge that has grown anything. but chris insists on putting every single food item from dinner away as "leftovers." this is ok when he eats them - not ok when he lets them sit.

the other night i reminded him that there was food in the fridge that needed to be eaten. doing this eliminates ever finding food with growth - that is, except for vegetables. those he skips past.

so i tell him that we have leftover "barbechue chicken legs." and that is not a typo, i made a little mistake. honestly, i was probably eating at the time. either way, as soon as i said it i knew the jokes would be coming.

so then he asks me, what barbechue chicken legs are. i roll my eyes and ignore him.

"did you sneeze on them? is that why they're barbechue?"

i think i need a drum set nearby. bu-dum-dum-ching!

so she says.

having a 2 year old and trying to get ready to get out of the house means that i end up with hot rollers (not hot at that moment) all over the floor with their pins. little chubby fingers trying to put them back in their slot, all while mama silently prays that he doesn't drop one on the inside of the roller case where i won't be able to reach it.

it also means throwing on whatever is there for me to wear. must pass certain standards: must be long enough to cover baby belly; must not have stains; must be able to keep me warm during this fickle spring-ish weather all while not keeping me too warm, because, well i am pregnant and we ladies do get quite hot. hormones and stuff, you know.

so i throw on a red shirt with a pink cardigan, figuring it passes the test. who cares if it doesn't match. i put in cute little red heart earrings and figure i'm just going to be 6-year old style cute today. i tell my sister who is outside waiting to pick me up that i don't need to hear it that i don't match; atleast i am ready to go (finally.)

she waits until we have finished shopping and eating lunch to tell me that my shirt is not red. no, she insists, it is magenta. i say, umm, in my house it looks red? and she says, wherever you are, that shirt is magenta.

i am finding some solace in the fact that maybe i didn't mismatch my outfit as badly as i thought (because magenta is just dark pink, right? and the cardigan was light pink) when i tell her, wait, my earrings are red and they match the shirt! AHA, i am right!

she quickly tells me (a little too quickly and with a little too much enjoyment i might add), no, your earrings are most defnitely red. and they do not match.

silently to myself, trying to make myself feel better - its ok. i have on two matching socks. (and then checking just to make sure. you never do know.)

shopping with our friends, shopping once again.

shopping, originally uploaded by sassyladybug.

my sister and i went shopping today. surprisingly i left the house without any questions about how much i was going to spend from chris. but, there were really good deals in the baby section at old navy and i was pretty excited - when you're having your second baby and especially if the baby is the same gender as the first, you don't have much reason to shop!

it happens.

one of the side effects of this pregnancy is a bit of insomnia. i wake up and am wide awake in the middle of the night.

i'm thankful that andrew naps well enough to allow me a nap in the afternoons. most days i am able to get the sleep i need.

i usually mind laying there awake while my hubby kicks his feet - this is what he does while he sleeps - but last night i decided i would enjoy the quiet and try to concentrate on going back to sleep.

in the quiet of our house at 4:30 am, i hear andrew talk in his sleep. and what favorite new word did he say?

"WHOA."