In all honesty, I have never done a giveaway or a review because that’s not what this is about. This is my creative outlet, not a place to offer up goodies and bribe you to show up. Not that I am above being bribed, because I’ve entered into many a giveaway. And won exactly nothing.

There is also a small matter regarding a certain agreement, with a particular company, who may or may not reside permanently on my sidebar, and who shall remain nameless.

But, last week I realized that the real problem is that these companies have been going about their approach all wrong. If you really want me to talk about your stuff, then kick me where it hurts. Right in the sentiment. Also known as “girl parts”.

So when Photofiddle.com showed me that they could take one of your pictures and turn it into artwork, and that they would let me give away a $50.00 gift certificate in the process? Well, hot diggity! I jumped on board.

One, because I love the idea. Two, because I know what it’s like to have no money. And three, because Valentine’s Day is coming up, and who really ever comes up with an original Valentine’s Day gift? You are all welcome for the awesome idea.

You can take a picture of a pet and have it turned into a watercolor-style, like this…

Or, a picture of your child can be turned into an oil painting-style like this…

Or, a photo from your honeymoon can be changed into impasto-style, like this…

And, there are plenty of other options for you to choose from.

To enter this $50.00 gift certificate giveaway, just leave a comment between now and 6:00 PM EST on Sunday, January 25th. Even if you don’t win, you can get a 15% discount at Photofiddle.com by entering the code mom15 on the shopping cart page in the promotion code box.

Happy Photofiddling, everyone!

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Look at what my husband found, in the far reaches of a cabinet while searching to see if we had any more cans of coffee. The cabinet goes so far back that it ends up behind our dishwasher. That’s my excuse anyway.

He didn’t find any coffee. Not that either one of us could think about drinking, or eating, anything after seeing this.

I found it particularly interesting that the forgotten potatoes look healthier than my spider plant.

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Yesterday afternoon, I took my sick son to an urgent care where he was seen by a kind and capable nurse practitioner. She quickly assessed him and wrote a prescription before sending us on our way. I kind of wanted to tell her this story. Kind of…

When our daughter was born ten weeks early via emergency c-section, my husband and I got a crash course in medical terminology. We learned all about NG-tubes, picc lines, desats, brady’s and many more words I hope you boys and girls never need to know.

We spent hours in the intensive care unit each day and picked up invaluable information from the neonatologists and our child’s primary care nurse. For 35 days straight, we sat at our daughter’s isolette reading her chart, working the monitors, and reapplying electrodes. By the end of that journey we felt like medical professionals ourselves.

Our son was born premature a few years later, but because of his heart condition he was immediately transferred to a children’s hospital where they had equipment to better care for him.

It was déjà vu with a twist. We were thrown into a familiar situation, in unfamiliar surroundings. Yet, we figured we were ahead of the game. At the very least, we knew the lingo and could communicate with the staff.

Or, so I thought.

Because I’m sure the nurse practitioner who met my husband upon our son’s admission was quite surprised when she introduced herself, only to have him say, “We’d like a real nurse, not one who’s just practicing.”

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Yesterday morning I was giving my son some medicine when I accidentally bumped his head on a kitchen cabinet. Without even thinking I said, “Bonk!”

My son laughed. So I tickled him a little and said, “You’re bonkers!” He laughed even harder.

Then I remembered where we would be fifteen minutes later and I said, “By the way, when we get to school you can’t go around calling people bonkers. I was being silly, but it wouldn’t be nice to say that to your classmates.”

To which he replied, “Okay. I’ll just call them crackers.”

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