Yard sale score!

Nick came home with these celluloid dinosaurs last week. I am having the time of my life with them! I have yet to develop the pics I've taken with the two I managed to get to work. I can't wait to see how they turn out. The other cameras may end up as decor, but who knows, they may all work beautifully. Stranger things have happened.

Family of five

A Catholic woman I once worked for told me that the church's argument against birth control is that we do not get to decide how many children we have, whether we want ten or none at all, it is up to God. I am not Catholic and I cannot even identify with any one religion, but I do know that despite my support in a woman's right to choose and everyone's right to bear children, we cannot always decide how many, if any children we will have. The thousands (if not millions) of women out there struggling to have just one child can tell you that. I cannot relate to these women. All I have to do is catch a glimpse of a baby's feet and I instantly ovulate.
I have never had a planned pregnancy. I hope that didn't come out wrong. It sounds negative, but it isn't. Birth control has not failed me, in fact I failed birth control...three times. And I am likely to do it again. It is for this reason that I got a tubal ligation on Monday. I love my three darlings more than life itself, when I am without them for too long I feel as though I am missing my limbs. I would be unbearably miserable without them. But what if they never came into play? What if they were still only twinkles in my eye? It's possible I could have found a life full of happiness and fulfillment. But as of now, I have crossed over. I could never, would never go back. Once you become a mother, it becomes an indelible mark on your path in life; a map tattooed in your mind. All arrows point north and the terrain leaves scars on your belly. I don't believe that I was meant to have my kids. I do not follow the faith that fate lead them to me. I believe that I am simply very blessed to have them and that I should feel obliged never to take them for granted. I also believe that if I let the cards fall where they may, I will become overwhelmed and lose all my hair at the hand of twelve children. So, for reasons stated above, I am not Catholic. I support birth control, I praise fertility science. And above all, I thank the universe for my beautiful family. We are now complete.

Apron giveaway!

Visit the apron goddesses and try for a free apron!

Jack's first interview

7 weeks, 2 days and ready for the spotlight!

I saw this on Princess Mar's blog and had to share:

A child's love for reading

Here is a story about a boy who at the beginning of third grade was reported to have a first grade reading level. He was however, blessed to have two amazing teachers who believed in him. Here he is, 9 months later, engaged in Micheal Crichton's Jurassic Park. These are the moments my heart beats for.

Word of the week!

anorchia an·or·chi·a (ā-nôr'kē-ə) or an·or·chism (ā-nôr'kĭz'əm)
noun.
Congenital absence of the testes.

I don't even want to try to put this into a sentence!

The "other" kind of landscaping

**Disclaimer; not for the esily offended**
If you've ever attempted the "landing strip" when it's been months since you've seen the "runway", you know where this is going. I am what you might call, a Yeti Betty (intended to be said in the fashion of Austin Powers...yeah baby). I might even go so far as to call myself a Sascrotch. I have yet to meet a razor that didn't run away in horror upon seeing the task set before it. I am the reason plumbers are still in business. The drain snake has been my savior since I hit puberty. Have I said too much?

My point is that I am now 7 weeks postpartum and am finally able to be intimate with my husband again. This is BIG news! And yet I feel like a raggedy old sac of skin. So I thought I would spice things up a bit and get out the ol' shave gel and the new (of course) razor and have a go. All I can say is "Dayum!" Razor-burn is evil! Now, I know Nick accepts me for me and does not need any fancy tricks to be happy, but I just like the idea of feeling sexy. So...exactly how sexy is razor-burn? On a scale of one to ten, how sexy can one feel with red bumps along their bikini line (or in my case, granny panties line)?

I forgot about all the troubles that come back into play once my playground is in view again. It's almost a good enough reason to have another baby. It's a good thing I'm getting my tubes tied in just 10 days.

Which leads me down a whole new road of neurosis; surgery is, A) not fun, B) painful, and C) I'm not even getting bigger boobs in the process. But I am doing my due to society and keeping to my promise to only bring three perfect beings into this world so as not to make everyone else jealous. My perfect beings are asleep at the moment, so of course I want more of them because they look so...well, you know, perfect.

Where am I going with all this? I have no idea. I have a constant broken record in my head (in the voice of Austin Powers, of course); surgery, turning 35, pay the garbage bill, surgery, turning 35 and so on. Here's to neurosis!