The classical stylings of the expectant mother

The idea that pregnancy can be laughed at really makes up for those uncomfortable moments of achy calves and heartburn. Lately I have misplaced things that I was carrying in my hands, thrown a marker across the classroom on accident, and locked our 4 weiner dogs in their cage for 12 hours while I was at work. Thankfully, they didn't come down with a horrible case of UTI. They looked like rats trying to escape from a burning building when we got home. There didn't seem to be any "accidents " although the faint smell of urine is ever-present.

Until . . . the next morning when the dog poop was discovered underneath the blankets, waiting there like a horrible hidden surprise. Imagine the desperation of a small dog, locked inside and needing to go potty, and then finally going in his own bed and covering the evidence. Anybody know a good pet therapist?


But let's get to the title of this post. Last weekend we went to a wedding reception for a girl in our ward. I thought it might be cold in the building, so I brought a stretchy black sweater. We were sitting around a table with our cute Bolivian bishop and some of our friends. I pull out the sweater to put it on a lo and behold . . . .


It's not a sweater!

Black stretchy pajama pants! How convenient!

The whole table was laughing and saying it was my prego brain. The next thing I knew, my bishop grabbed the pants, held them up, and put them on his head. Great moment.