I suppose I should tell another “Doh!” story now.  When I was pregnant with the twins in 2006, I had a serious case of preggo brain.  One day I was packing up my other 2 little ones in the van to go somewhere and I was yacking on my cell phone with my husband before leaving.  In the middle of our phone conversation I stopped and frantically asked my husband, “Honey, where’s my phone?!” because I was looking and feeling around on the passenger-side seat and floor and couldn’t find it.  David says back to me, “You tell me, where *IS* your phone!” I asked and he answered at least 2 more times before I finally got it.

And here’s another: during my previous pregnancy with my son, I was also about to go somewhere, so I slung my purse over my shoulder, grabbed my keys and cell phone, and before going out the door asked my husband, “Where’s my purse?” He asked me the same question, and even asked my then 2yo daughter, before letting me off the hook.