Similar Names and Awkward Text Messages

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I have a problem.

My husband and my best friend have very similar names. Well, kind of similar in the fact that in both their names the first two letters are the same and in both their last names the first two letters are the same.

My husband is Jeff Mitchell and my bestie is Jen Mil… (not sure she wants her name on the Internet so I’ll protect her innocence from you all crazy stalkers)

See, not exactly the same but very close. It confuses me and has produced a some awkward situations.

These two people are the people that I text most so they are both on the top of my texting list. I have been know to send a bitchy text about my husband meant for my bestie to my husband. Or a sexy text meant for my husband to my bestie. Or worse a text about how I want to jump the hot construction worker that just winked at me meant for my bestie but sent to my husband.

It’s all good. Jeff will just text me back saying, “Are you sure you wanted this to go to me?”

I can almost see the eye roll through the phone.

Another way I get confused is that by their responses. Since I am constantly texting these two, I will often not pay close enough attention to the sender.

If I just sent Jeff a text and then my phone beeps with a new text message I just assume it’s from him when  a lot of times it’s actually from Jen.

This just happened recently.

I had texted Jeff something about something he needed to do after work for the kids. I don’t remember specifically but probably something along the lines of ‘Hey dude. Don’t be a dumbass and forget to pick up our kids’ or ‘Can you get milk because our kids guzzle it by the gallon daily and we really need a cow’.

I hit send and then went back to scrolling through Facebook to pass the time.

As I was scrolling a text banner flashed across the top of my iPhone meaning I had a new text message. I glanced up, quickly saw a ‘Je’ and then part of the message that said “my dress keeps riding up when I sit down…”

Not exactly the message one would get from their husband but my brain processed it and I said to myself, “Huh, I don’t remember Jeff wearing a dress this morning. I wonder which dress of my dresses Jeff borrowed to wear to work?”

I paused for a moment.

This is didn’t make sense. I probably needed to read the whole message. I felt like I was missing something. Something was off. I wasn’t getting the whole picture.

I closed the app I was using and opened my text message.

“My dress is riding up when I sit down and my vagina is acting like a suction cup on the stool.”

Well now this was weird. I know my husband does not have a vagina. I checked that this morning. So I looked more carefully at the message and that’s when I realized, it was my bestie sending me the text and not my husband.


Glad, I cleared that one up because I really didn’t want to share my dresses with Jeff. He just doesn’t have the boobs to make them look good.



So You are Pregnant with Twins and your Preschooler has a Broken Leg?! No Problem

My best friend in the whole wide world is going to have twins.

Woot Woot! Yippee! Yeah!

I secretly think she did this on purpose because she wants to be just like me in just about every way. I mean, we both have the name Jen. We both are funny and totally hot. We both have mostly boy children. We are both nurses.

But I was the only one with multiples… until now.

I totally called her having twins.

In the early months of her pregnancy, she was super duper sick. Like getting up to puke in the toilet was too much for her and would cause her to puke more. She was slightly worried as to why with this pregnancy she was so sick and not with her others. It was weird. So the doctor did an ultrasound and BAM! Two babies.

She called to tell me.



Driving home from my doctor’s appointment.

It’s twins, right?


You are totally having twins. I knew it.

Yup, twins.

SQUEEEEEEE! Really?! Twins?


That is so amazing.

And our conversation went on like that for another 20 minutes with her saying, “yup, twins” and me saying “that’s amazing” like a billion times.

Since then we both can come to terms with her having twins and have been happily awaiting their arrival.

Well, my girl likes a complicated life.

I guess, she didn’t really like  her life more complicated life but things happen and as the saying goes, ‘when it rains, it pours’.

What I mean by that is, last week I got a text from her telling me that she was in the ER with her son who had decided to make a flying leap off their staircase and land knees first on their stone harth.

Why all little boys think they can fly is beyond me.

Anyway, her son now has a broken leg. He is in a full leg cast and can’t walk.  And preschool started for him which means my friend has to go to his preschool class and carry him around. She does use a stroller at times but more often than not, she is lugging around a 35lb 4 yr old plus two 2lb (each) twins in her belly.

Essentially, she is carrying three children around at once. Now, I am not a stranger to this but it still sucks ass, no matter how you slice it.

To say she is miserable, would be an understatement.

Since I am her friend and I totally understand her pain.

I came up with an idea of how to help… She can ‘baby wear’ her preschooler.

Yup, she can just have her husband strap that boy on her back and then go about her day. I am not expert on baby wearing but I have read about it on the internet so this has to work.  I figure the weight of him on her back will probably cancel out the weight of her belly and it will be all good.

Yup, I told you it was brilliant.  I tried it for myself. Total success!

1. Happy boy on momma’s back

2. Sucker to keep boy’s mouth happy so that he is not talking in mommy’s ear all day. The more the talker the bigger the sucker should be.

3. Broken leg, hopefully healing quickly

4. Baby carrier or baby wrap, whatever is prefered.

5. Belly full o’ twins

6. Many diapers packed into wrap so that kid can just pee since there is no way he is getting out and back in again with out major help for bathroom breaks.

7. Happy Mommy

8. Giving new meaning to baby wearing

I don’t know about you but I think she is going to love my idea. I know that if I had to have a son break a leg and be pregnant with twins, I would totally love this idea.

Making New Mom Friends

Remember when I told you about my mom crush?

She is mom of Claire’s bff at the triplet’s preschool and she is such a beautiful mess. She has four kids like me, comes to school drop off in her jammies and seems just  frazzled as me. And the very first time that she had Claire over from a play date, she wasn’t horrified when Quinn peed on her rug. She all like, “It’s no big deal. All my rugs are urine soaked.”

I just adore her.

Now, I did find out that she uses cloth diapers but I am going to let that slide. I do see the benefit of cloth diapers and to be honest, if I ever had another baby, I’d probably use them too.

But as much as I like this woman, I have realized that the feeling might not be mutual. It’s not that I think she doesn’t like me, I just don’t think that her feelings are as strong as mine.

See being out going and making new friends is hard for me. I am usually never the one that makes the first move. I am used to being the one that is pursued.

Because when I do the pursuing, come on too strong.

I had this problem in high school with a boy. I really, really liked him and when he finally asked me to go see a movie with him, I was over joyed.

The ‘date’ went well and we had a good time but after it was done, I was on him like white on rice.

No, not physically but I did call him three times a day, just to hear his voice. I wrote out notes to him, signing them ‘your girlfriend’ or ‘love you’. I sent myself flowers from him on our one week anniversary. I made sure no other girls talked to him. I thought about changing my school schedule around to be near him more. I took a sweater out of his locker to wear. I made him hold my hand and walk me to class.

Yeah, I was full on crazy stalker girl.

Now that I look back on it, I am amazed he put up with me for three weeks. Seriously.

He ended up lying to me and sneaking around behind me back. I was really hurt at the time but what else was this poor boy supposed to do? I was smothering him and obsessed. I practically had us married.

Ever since this experience, I have been really careful with new people. I make sure they like me first so they think my crazy is cute and endearing.

But I like this woman so much that I find it hard to keep my crazy in check. But I am trying for the sake of my daughter and her friendship.

I mean, we are only at the preschool level here. I can’t have the ‘your mom is a stalker’ reputation until at least middle school.

So I have been playing it cool. I resist the urge to call her once a day. I let her chat with other moms at preschool drop off. I schedule playdates every two weeks instead of every week.

And so far, it’s been working.

She has not taken out a restraining order and Claire gets to play with her daughter.

I was dropping off Claire’s friend after a recent afternoon of play when my Mom Crush and I began chatting. I was playing it cool and being funny, making her laugh and such, when on the inside I was doing cartwheels and swooning.

We were discussing how our husband both like to start projects but never finish them when suddenly, “YOU DUMB ASS SHIT HOLE!” rang through the neighborhood.

“Sorry,” she nervously laughed, “That would be my neighbors.”

“Alan! You are a dumb ass. YOU HAD SEX WITH HER!” the yelling continued.

“Nice,” I said as we both walked out of her garage where we were chatting and onto the driveway after we heard a loud bang.

“Yup, it’s our very own domestic disturbance across the street,” she said, “I would call the county police but by the time they get here the fighting is over. I know, I have called in the past.”

I smiled at her, “Look at it this way, you have your ever own live version of Jerry Springer.”

She laughed and I did too.

“I know. It’s so ridiculous how some people act,” she said as again a door slammed and we heard something shatter.

“Well, at times like these the only thing you can do is send the kids out back to play, grab a chair and a cold beer, sit down and watch the action,” I said, “It’s like ‘shhh… mommy is watching her stories!'”

With that she laughed and laughed and laughed some more as I did a mental back flips… yup, we on our way.

We are almost to the point where I can start to let me crazy show.

Now to find her on Facebook.

A Little More Pleasure

“So guess what I heard the other day?” my good friend began as we sipped on our drinks.

We had a rare chance to get away for a dinner, alone. We are both mommies and led busy lives, her more so than me since she is a mommy, works full time and is going to school working towards an advanced degree in nursing.

I don’t get to see her as much as I like so when we called and suggested we meet for dinner, I was pretty much out the door before even hanging up the phone which was an issue since Jeff was not home from work yet.

A girls night out?! You don’t have to ask me twice.

“What?” I asked as I popped a blue cheese stuffed olive from my dirty martini into my mouth.

“Well apparently if you touch each one of your fingers to your thumb as fast as you can,” she paused to demonstrate, “during sex right before you orgasm, your orgasm with be better and stronger.”

I swallowed the liquid that was in my mouth and just looked at her.

“No way,” I finally said shaking my head in disbelief. “There is no way that that is true.”

“I thought so too,” my friend said,”but someone in my class looked it up in one of our nursing text books and its true.”

“Really?!” I said still in disbelief but now totally curious.

“Yup,” she said.

“You didn’t just read this on some Internet website, you know like those weight loss websites that say if you take a pill five times a day you will magically loose 100 pounds. Because that doesn’t work, I know. I may have tried it.” I responded.

“No. This came from a bona fide text book that we use in school to learn about how to treat and assess the human body,” she answered.

Well now I was really intrigued. Not that I feel like my sex life is lacking but if a simple little finger trick could make things better, why not try it.

“So,” she said.

“So…..?” I questioned.

“The other night, I tried it,” she answered.

Hot damn!

Here is was. Here was the proof that I was looking for. My good friend had learned something useful. Sure all that stuff she was learning about keeping people healthy and alive was good but this was about getting more pleasure out of sex and who wouldn’t be for that.

“And,” I said hoping to her that she had a mind blowing orgasm. “And…..”

“Nothing,” she said.

“Really,” I said disappointed, “Nothing?!”

“Well, not nothing, something but not a huge something,” she said.

“Oh,” I said as I took a sip of my martini.

We just sat sipping on our drinks. I totally felt robbed. How could a text book be wrong?

But suddenly a thought came to me.

“Maybe,” I said, “Maybe your fingers just need more practice.”

She looked up from her drink, shrugged and said nothing. Soon we both found ourselves staring off into space, lost in throught.

After a few moments of silence we both looked back at each other to see that each of us had our hands in the air tapping each one of our fingers to our thumbs.

A smile crossed both our faces.

“A little practice never hurt anything,” I said. “Besides, this has to work. How many wrong text books do you know?”

Left Left Left Rigth Left

*Brrring Brrrring*

The phone of my hospital room rang and startled me from my doze.

I quickly turned my neck to look for it which shot pain up and down my body.

Of course the phone had slipped out of reach but with a little stretching through gritted teeth I was able to reach the cord and pull it to me.

“Hello” I said just a little out of breath.

“Hey, there girl!” the voice on the other end said. I recognized it right away and a smile crossed my lips. It was the comforting tone of my best friend.

“Hi,” I said. I was relieved to hear her voice but I wasn’t sure why.

“How are you doing?” she asked.

“Oh,” I began…




“I am doing fine. I just got some morphine so its all good.” I said with a little slur in my words.




“Riding the morphine train. I like it.” she said.




“Yeah. Its good.” I said with a sleepish yawn




“Ok. So what is that?” she ask.

“Oh, nothing. I think its the patient across the hall from me.” I said. “At least he stopped saying ‘Left'”

“Wait, what?!” she said trying to muffle her laugh. “How come you got placed on the dementia unit?”




“Oh damn!” I said with a sigh




“What?” she asked

“He started with the whole ‘LEFT’ yelling again.” I said trying to will the morphine sleep to come faster.  “And I have no idea who I pissed off being place on this unit”




She was now laughing so hard that she could barely speak.

“This is not funny,” I said getting a little annoyed




“Sorry, sweetie, your right. Its not funny.” she said composing her self. “Have you tried yelling, right?”

“What? No. I am not going to yell and fraternize with the crazy,” I said.




“You never know, it might just work,” she said again, again trying to muffle laughter.

“Fine.” I said just wanting the world to stop. I just wanted to sleep, to drift off to a drug induced dreamless sleep. This hospital stay was suppose to be my escape from the craziness that is my life. This was my time to sleep, rest and recover. It was not my time to deal with crazy yelling people. I do that at home on a regular basis.




So with that, I took a deep breath and at the top of my lungs I yelled, RIGHT!

For a moment the man was quiet but then the sweet quiet unfortunately ended.








“I’ll talk to you later,” I said to my friend as her belly laugh over took her and she could no longer speak. I smiled and laughed as I faintly heard, “left right left right left” from across the hall because really what else was I suppose to do?

Expect smile, laugh a little and push the nurse button for another ticket to ride the morphine train.

This post from Writer’s Workshop inspired by the prompt,
Describe the last thing that made you laugh really hard

Mama's Losin' It

Welcome to Club Puma

I had an interesting epiphany last night and I thought it would be interesting to share as we all enter the weekend.

Last night, some girl friends and I went out to dinner. The drinks were flowing and there was laughter all around. We were having a great time telling stories about work, sharing frustrations about our husbands and kids and just eating food with out anyone wanting a bite or needing mommy to do something for them.

We were out and women and not a mommies. It was really great.

Since we were out as women, there was something else going on too. We were flirting with the cute young thang that was our server. And he was enjoying every minute of it. (And I am going to say it was not because he wanted a big fat tip.)

Then that flirting brought on more talk about all the cute young guys around us. We starting naming names. We stared fantasizing about them, shirtless and maybe some even pantless.

And suddenly, it was very hot in there. Like need a cold shower hot.

But as quickly as the subject matter started, it changed to something else. Which was probably a good thing because it would have been bad if one of us had gotten arrested for lewd behavior.

I wanted to stay on this subject matter for just a few more minutes because something hit me.

We are pumas*.  We are all in our 30’s. We all are married with kids. We are all good looking women and we all were flirting and lusting over younger men.

I guess its official. We have now welcomed ourselves into club puma. The only thing left to say now is,


*If you have no idea what a puma is then here is a definition.

The Puma is a woman in her 30’s who takes good care of herself and presents an interesting, confident image to the world coming from her own self-assurance deep inside. She may attract many men younger than herself. But she knows it’s not about age, it’s about happiness and inner joy.