Why Texting is Satan's Plaything

Anyone who has ever texted on a smartphone, or used predictive text, knows what a dangerous situation they are putting themselves in. Namely, what is this message actually going to say when the other person receives it?

We've all been there.

Now, I love using autocorrect. Really, I do. It capitalizes words for me and adds the necessary apostrophe to any contraction. As a former English major, I'm a little embarrassed of how much I rely on it, honestly. However, there are those fabulous occasions when autocorrect turns into an extremely interesting fiasco. For example, this:

When I sent this to my charming husband, we were still dating. He was actually planning on proposing on the aforementioned Monday. He never did take me pooping...

Or this:

Nick: Do you want me to pick up something for dinner?
Me: Nah. I've got some chicken thawing. Butthat you.
Nick: Did you just call me a butthat?
Me: Yes. Yes I did. I did, however, mean "but thank you."

Or this:

Me: Can I borrow your crackpot?
Mom: Sorry. I just can't part with it. But I can lend you my crock pot.
Me: That works. Really is a shame about that crackpot, though. Maybe another time.
Mom: I don't like to share.

Or there's the time when I sent a text meant for the hubs to my mother:

Me: I miss you, lovekins!
Mom: Are you on drugs this morning?
Me: Apparently.

And that's why I shouldn't text anymore...

Through the Eyes of a Child

My baby is getting huge. I don't mean that in the typical pinch-your-cheeks-oh-my-you're-getting-so-big fashion. I mean, literally. She's huge. At her 2 month checkup she weighed 12 pounds 4 ounces and was 24 inches long. Now, for those of you who know me, I'm not quite 5 feet tall. So... yeah. She's almost half my height at 2 months old. I'll let myself out...

Here we are now, and she's almost THREE months old. What is this lunacy?! She's laughing and babbling and trying so hard to roll over. She's drooling buckets and has decided that lying on the floor is for babies, whereas she's a big girl and, therefore, must sit upright.

I never knew that a baby could be so hysterically funny. I never knew that so much milk could be spit up at once. I never knew that seeing her smile at me would make my entire day so much better. 

What is it about our children that makes us want to rip our hair out and kiss them at the same time? How can we be so aggravated at them one minute, and want to shield them from ever getting hurt the next? Children are so beautifully innocent. I think, as adults, we forget that life isn't meant to be complicated. We get the notion that things should be a certain way, and become upset to the point of ruining relationships if they don't. You'll never see a child do that. To them, life is simple. They don't know how to hold grudges. They don't know how to feel superior. They don't know how to not be friends. 

Since having Alexa, I often find myself taking a step back from my life and asking myself, "Would the 4-year-old me like who I've become?" If the answer is no, it's time to change something. 

Happy Thursday!

Soap Box Maternity Monday

I am noticing more and more that the women who "loved being pregnant" haven't actually been pregnant for quite some time. I'm also noticing that those same women seem to look down on me for having the audacity to say that I dislike being pregnant. So, I will say this one last time...

Just because I'm not ecstatic about being a human vessel does not mean that I will love my child any less than you love yours. 

I dislike pregnancy. Not my baby. So, just go ahead and tell me how I feel about her. I dare you. No? Good idea.

I've always had a problem with people who tell me what I'm feeling and/or thinking. I'm sorry, are you me? Do you know every ounce of information there is to know about my pregnancy circumstances? No? Then keep your mouth shut. Yes, I may be hormonal and crabby. No, I haven't gotten much sleep lately and that's probably why I'm creating a new hole for you to breathe out of. But, seriously. What gives you the right to say these things to me? Do you know that every single piece of "advice" you give me makes me cry myself to sleep? Do you know that you are making me question whether or not I will be a good mother? Of course not. So, I'm telling you. 

Please, for the love of all that is good, pay attention to what you say and who you say it to.