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.)