How to build a fire

when it's been raining for days and all your wood is wet.....

1. Stack your wet kindling so that plenty of oxygen can get to any flame that you may get started.

2. Stuff plenty of wet newspaper in the gaps and light. Fan and blow on it...till you get red in the face.

3. Wet wood and paper will smoke a lot.....keep small children away.

4. Once the paper has burned up, your fire will die. Wet wood doesn't like to burn. Ponder the laws of physics and engineering that you studied 20 years ago and try to come up with a better plan.

5. Sing and dance to Staying Alive in hopes that mother nature has a sense of humor....

6. When all of the above fails, get out the lamp oil and give everything a good dousing.

7. Viola! Fire!

Proof that I do exist

In case you were wondering, I'm the photographer in my family. I bring my Nikon D80 every where. It's like an extension of my body, and just about every little thing my kids do, is photographed. I have taken thousands and thousands of pictures of them.

When they do something wrong, I often run for the camera before I discipline. When they make a mess, I take pictures. Temper tantrums are some of my favorite photos. I've even let Sam and his friend Cooper ride around on his Power Wheels firetruck completely naked, just because the pictures were so great.

The downside of being the family photographer, is that other than our wedding pictures and the photos of me pregnant and giving birth to Grace, there really are no photos of me. I actually worry sometimes, that if something were to happen to me, my kids would completely forget me and have very little to remind them of me.

So today, I put my baby in Auto mode and handed her to Brad. Here I am. Having fun with my kids. Unshowered. No make up. Wearing the same shorts that I've been wearing for three days...It's real life.

It's exactly the way I want my kids to remember me.

Friends you've never met

When I began blogging a year and a half ago, I had yet to write in a baby book, or complete a scrapbook. I saw blogging as a way to keep track of what was happening in our lives and to share pictures and stories with our friends and family who live far away. That was it.

I didn't know about site meters or blog readers. I'd never heard of a Blog Carnival or a BooMama. Rocks In My Dryer was nothing more than a noisy mistake... I didn't even know that you could have comments sent to your email....which was no big deal, because Bethany was the only person who ever left me one.

I had no idea what I was doing or what it would become to me. If someone had told me that I would make friends through my blog, I wouldn't have believed it or even thought it possible.

My blog is not full of deep thoughts and witty writing. I don't have a real focus or a target audience (beyond my family). As you know, I tend to share pictures of my kids and the happy and funny moments of my life. I know that there are a lot of bloggers out there who constantly strive to get more traffic. I don't think that there is anything wrong with this, but I'm not one of them. Although this blog has become much more than a way to keep in touch with family, and I enjoy getting comments from new people, my reasons for writing it have not changed. I would keep at it even if my parents were the only ones who ever looked at it.

But they are not. I am pleasantly surprised and very happy that people who have never lived with me (Bethany again) and are not related to me read this thing. There are now women in my life who I have never met. Women who make me laugh and cry. Women who inspire and challenge me. Women that I think about often and pray for. Women that I'm pretty sure I would love to hang out with in real life. Women that I consider to be my friends.

The other day, I did something that I have never done before (at least not on my blog). I had a melt down. A temper tantrum of sorts. After I posted it, I thought about deleting it. It felt selfish. It felt whiny. It felt trivial compared to what many of you go through on a daily basis. Then I started getting comments. I was completely unprepared for the heartfelt words of encouragement that I received from both real life friends and friends I've never met.

Thank you friends. I'm so thankful for the unexpected blessing that blogging has become. Your kind words, invitations and offers made me smile and knowing that you were praying for me was just amazing. Thanks for sharing your lives, your humor, your talent and your struggles. I have enjoyed getting to know you all so much. And if you are someone who stops by say from, Howard South Dakota or Wood Dale Illinois, I'd love to get to know you too (I know have a site meter and know how to use it!)

Hope you are all having a great weekend. Big bloggy hugs!

No good, terrible, very bad week

What can I say? It's been one of those weeks that I pretty much dislike everything about being a stay home mom. If someone called and offered me a job that payed enough to cover the cost of daycare, I'd take it.

Grace is on a sleep strike. She has gone from going to bed at 6 o'clock and sleeping straight through to screaming her head off for four to five hours at a time and then not napping during the day. I live in a 1,900 square foot Cape. There is no getting away from her howls. She is sleeping right now, but if she wakes up, I have decided to take my movie, Bella, out to the minivan and watch it there. Not kidding.

Sam is currently in the bathroom pooping in a diaper. Since Saturday he has refused to use the toilet. I have refused to give him a diaper. This has resulted in several incidents of pooping in his pants. I cannot take it anymore. I caved. He won.

That's my vent. That's what we've been up to. I know in the grand scheme of things, it's not that big of a deal and I feel bad complaining. But I am frustrated and I am tired and Brad isn't home, and if I didn't sit and write this down, I was going to cry....so thanks for listening.

Punishment?

"Behold, children are a gift of the LORD, The fruit of the womb is a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior, So are the children of one's youth. How blessed is the man whose quiver is full of them." Psalm 127:3-5a

"Woe to those who call evil good, and good evil; Who substitute darkness for light and light for darkness; Who substitute bitter for sweet and sweet for bitter!" Isaiah 5:20

I copied this directly from Saralyn. I believe that she got it from this very thought provoking post.

Civic duty isn't so bad

Today, I was showered, dressed, wearing makeup and on my way to jury duty by 7:45.

As I entered the jury room, I was greeted by 60 or so very miserable looking people from all walks of like. Young, old, well dressed, hardly dressed...they all looked at me and scowled. After giving my paperwork to the court officer, I sat next to an older woman and said hello. She looked at me suspiciously. Is it just New England, or does the prospect of being seated on a jury make people everywhere unfriendly?

After sitting in the most uncomfortable chair in the oldest, still operating courthouse in the United Stated for about an hour we watched a video that explained the judicial process. I read my book, because I'd seen the video before, in my 5th grade civics class...

We waited some more. I contemplated how I was going to present myself as a most unattractive juror.

Then the judge came in and began to talk about the difference between "hardship" and "inconvenience". He quoted John Adams and talked about freedom and democracy and the right to a trial by jury. He acknowledged that being there was inconvenient for everyone, but that it's necessary and part of the price for the freedom that we enjoy. Then he said, "We have soldiers in Iraq who are serving this country today. They and their families are facing great, personal hardship. For most of you here today, what I am asking of you is merely an inconvenience. Please keep that in mind"

I stopped trying to figure out how I was going to talk my way out of being selected.

We were brought into the court room and sworn in. We were told that the case before the court involved a breach of contract related to a real estate transaction. Hmmm...not exactly ripped from the headlines... The trial would likely not end until Friday.

A week? Although nothing like serving in the military, a week of jury duty with two kids under four, would be really hard. I listened closely to the questions that were asked. An affirmative answer to any of them, could get me dismissed. "Do you work in the real estate industry?" Hmmm...I wonder if it counts if you are married to a real estate attorney and broker? "Have you ever been involved in an unusual real estate transaction?" Define unusual? Pretty sure the fact that I own a condo in a building that has been involved in litigation because of mold issues will count as a yes....

I was number 55. Six of the first fifteen people were seated. I didn't think that they would get to me. I heard a few women tell the judge that they had child care issues and he let them go. Then sixteen people in a row were dismissed. As my number got closer and the pool of potential jurors got smaller, I noticed that childcare issues were no longer getting people sent home. I started practicing what I was going to say, how I would ensure that I sounded a little biased. How I would ensure that my poor mother in law did not have to watch my kids for a week.

When my name was called, I approached the bench and smiled.

"How are you today?"

"I'm well your honor. How are you?"

"I see that you have an 18 month old at home. Is childcare going to be a problem for you?"

"They're both with my 80 year old in laws (sorry mom, I know you are not quite 80, but dad is...)"

"Are your in laws spry and very youthful?"

"Yes, actually. They're great."

"Are you concerned?"

"Honestly? One day is fine, I could even do two. But an entire week? Well, that would be hard."

"Okay, I'm going to dismiss you. Thank you for your willingness to serve."

No lies. No exaggerations. Just like that. I did my civic duty.

My View

Before Sam was born, this was my view.

We lived in a charming one bedroom condo that my father, grandfather and uncles all helped renovate. We had sea kayaks and a boat, on a slip 100 feet from our front door. During the warm months, if it we weren't working, we were on the water. I didn't even mind winter there.

Now, the ocean is a few miles away. A single guy rents our condo, someone on the Cape is enjoying our boat and our kayaks have not been touched since before Sam was born. But we have this. And honestly, I wouldn't care if I had to live in a house under railroad tracks or on the side of I 95, just as long as they are there.

The sound of the ocean is beautiful, but hearing "I love you" and "You're the best mommy in the world." is a million times better.

34...really?

Do you remember when you counted the days till your birthday with much excitement and anticipation? I do. I also remember when I stopped. Twenty-one. In my mind, once I could legally buy my own alcohol, there was no need for another birthday. And yet they keep coming. Thirteen of them to be exact.

Today I turn 34 and somehow, that just doesn't seem possible. I just can't get over how fast all that time has gone. I can't believe that I can say things like:

"Remember that summer 20 years ago, the one before you moved to Virginia, when all those surfer boys in RI that we'd been dreaming about since 6th grade finally noticed us?" to my oldest friend, Jenn.

Or to my college roommate and dear friend Bethany, "Remember when we first met 17 years ago? You did such a great job curling my hair for prom." or "Remember when we moved into our dorm room 16 years ago? Remember Abraham and Isaac? That picture on your blog of Aaron and the boys reminds me of it. When they get a little bigger, you can do Shadrach, Meshach and Abedngo, I promise I won't drool."

Or to my best friend in high school Meg, "Remember 18 years ago when Mr. Francini bought us dates for the Snowball?"

Or to my little sister Michelle, "Remember when Jenn and I dyed your hair pink. Oh, you do? I would have thought that maybe after 21 years, you would have forgotten."

There are sad things too, like realizing that my friend Tom, who died before our Senior year of high school, has been gone for longer than he was alive. Or that it was 14 years ago today that my mother called me to tell me that my grandma had died.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not mourning the fact that I am getting older. Honestly, even if I could, I wouldn't want to be 21 again. My current life is so good. I have a wonderful husband and two beautiful children. While I have many of the same friends, I have many wonderful new ones as well. I'm closer to my parents and siblings and I have a deeper relationship with the Lord. I'm more comfortable with who I am. My life is more real.

Yet, I still can't wrap my mind around the fact that I am 34. The time has gone so fast, and I know that the next 20 years will likely go by even faster. In 20 years, our children will be grown. Our house will be empty. It sounds so far off, but it's not. So, my resolution today is to make the most of every single one of these crazy days that I have been blessed with. Twenty years from now, I hope that I will be able to look at Brad and say, "Life is so good. Fifty-four is perfect. I wouldn't go back if I could."

I thought I could live without a microwave

For several months, I have contemplated getting rid of the giant microwave that takes up way too much room in my counter space challenged kitchen. For one thing, microwaves scare me a little. I mean how does that thing work? Plus, I don't use it very much. I never reheat or thaw meat in it because I think it gives it a weird texture and taste. We don't even make microwave popcorn anymore. (Have you read the ingredients? They're scary.)

I kept asking myself, "Self, do you really need a 2'x2' box on your counter to cook frozen vegetables?" That seems almost as silly as having your own personal chicken rotisserie or smoothie machine (If any of you have a chicken rotisserie or smoothie machine, I do not mean to offend. I'm sure they are very cool and that you get lots of use out of them. At my house, they would be silly things to have.)

I've come really close to Freecycling it, but since I have a hard time parting with things (read between the lines, I'm a pack rat), it has continued to live on my counter. Until last night.

Last night, as I was heating a bag of frozen corn, there was a flash of light and a loud popping noise and then silence. The microwave died.

Hallelujah, I thought! Now I can throw it out! And I did. It went right out to the trash and I admired my new counter space.

Then, a new day started.

At 8:30, I poured a cold cup of coffee into my mug and turned to the microwave. It was gone. How does one heat their coffee? In a pot on the stove? Considering that the pot from last nights corn is still in the sink, I think not. I drank my second cup of coffee cold.

At 11:30, I began to contemplate lunch. Hmmm...a frozen quesadilla from trader Joe's? Sounds yummy. Dang, I always zap those for 30 seconds so that they don't take 50 minutes to cook in the toaster oven. I ate peanut butter and jelly.

I think I used that microwave more than I realized. I guess she will have to be replaced after all. Maybe by a cute, small, red one.

Off to a good start!

I'm not a morning person. Not even a little. It takes about three cups of coffee for me to even start feeling human. I use a French Press so that I can make strong, hot cups of coffee throughout my day.


For those of you not familiar with the French Press, it's really not all that different than any other coffee maker. Meaning, you do have to grind the beans. I put four scoops (of beans) in and was about to add water before I woke up enough to realize my mistake.
It's oh dark thirty and raining. I wish going back to bed was an option. Instead, I will make French Toast and enjoy my coffee...

Suppose.....Part 2

Suppose you are about to turn 34 years old and the dentist informs you that because of how hard you grind your teeth and the fact that you have a pretty severe overbite, you need braces. Failure to get braces will result in you having crazy buck teeth that may actually break because your bottom front teeth are not only pushing your front top teeth forward, but also wearing away the back of them. Your teeth will continue to shift and it is also likely that your overbite will continue to get worse causing further TMJ issues. (I had TMJ surgery 10 years ago and was almost as painful as natural child birth.)

I came home and cried. I won't deny that I am a little vain. The thought of braces, even clear ones, does not thrill me. However, I am actually more upset about the cost. Do you have any idea how many things I would like to do with the money that we don't have, but will apparently be spending on braces?

I also need a crown on a tooth that had a root canal a few years back. By the time that tooth has been completely taken care of it will be worth (to me only) almost $3,000. The combined cost of my first and second cars was not that much. Maybe I should just get them all pulled and get dentures. Goodbye vanity!

To be continued.....

Suppose....

Suppose someone hadn't been to the dentist in four years. Okay, that's not entirely true. Suppose someone had only been to the dentist once in the past four years.....for a root canal when she was five months pregnant. Suppose that person was really looking forward to going to the dentist because it meant an hour all by herself. Suppose that person is looking forward to going back next week to start extensive and probably expensive and painful dental work...all by herself.

Does that person need to get out more? (I was going to say get a life, but I happen to know that deep down, this person loves and is very thankful for the life she has.)

The nudge I needed

I've been meaning to write this post all week. I wanted it to be full of imagery and the emotion that I felt 13 years ago when I went on a short term missions trip to Honduras. I wanted to find pictures of the children that I met on that trip and post them. I wanted you to be able to see the two year old Garifuna boy with a belly round from malnourishment and yellow grey hair. I wanted to show you the mud hut that I brought him to and the bed made from a cardboard box that I put him on when he fell asleep on my lap.

It's been a crazy week here. I haven't had an opportunity to look for the photo album from that trip or the time to write the post that's in my head. Instead, I share this:

I came back from that trip with a different perspective on the world. It was life changing, or so I thought. For a while, I felt guilty about the fact that I had ten pairs of jeans and at least twenty sweaters in my dorm room closet. It seemed wrong that the room I shared with one other girl was larger and much more comfortable than the homes that I had seen on my trip. I vowed to be more socially conscious, to complain less, to want less, to not take my wealth for granted and to consider the global cost for all that I enjoy as an American.

At the time, I didn't think that the lessons I had learned would ever leave me. I couldn't imagine that the faces of the hungry children that I met would fade in my mind. They have though. In a lot of ways, it's like that trip never happened. I rarely think about it or the things that I learned.

Until this week.

Right now, there is a group of Christian bloggers visiting Uganda and writing about the work that Compassion does there. While reading their blogs and looking at their pictures, my memories of Honduras and the lessons learned have started to return. I've cried a lot.

As I read the stories and look at the beautiful faces of these African children, I'm struck by the fact that they are just as real as my own children and just as much a part of God's creation. I've asked God why. Why do I have so much when others have nothing? Why do children have to suffer? I quickly heard the answer in my heart. Know what it was? Loud and clear, "Why aren't you doing anything?" I cried some more.

Sponsoring a child through Compassion is something that I've been meaning to do for a while. I've put it off, telling myself that we really dont have any extra money. Yet, I spend freely and buy what I want (which is very different and very often much more than we actually need). I donate our old things to local charities and tell myself that giving away things I can't use and don't want is enough, that I'm doing my part to help those in need.

I'd also managed to convince myself that the small amount that I can give can't possibly make a real difference. I was wrong. Just $32 a month can change not just a child's life, but the lives of an entire family as well. $32, that's it. If you don't believe it, I would encourage you to spend some time reading the Uganda blogs. You will be amazed.

After reading this post by Shaun Groves I went to the Compassion site and our family began to sponsor a little boy in Uganda. His name is Aaron and he is one day older than Sam. We're already praying for him and looking forward to receiving his packet so that we can start getting to know this little one who already feels like a part of our family. Thanks for the nudge Shaun.

Shaun is asking people to share their Compassion stories. If you have a story to tell, or are interested in reading about other people's experiences, click here.

New, old friend.

Over a year ago I got an email from Classmates.com saying I could send one person an email for free. I had registered with the site six or seven years ago but have never used it. Unlike Facebook and My Space, Classmates makes you pay to see people's profiles or to contact them. I honestly don't know how they've managed to stay in business. I digress...I sent the free email to my friend Erica, whom I haven't spoken to in about twelve years. As soon as I hit send a message popped up saying that if Erica joined Classmates (as in paid money) she would be able to read my message. Sneaky, sneaky, sneaky Classmates.com....I felt a little like a heal and was pretty sure that I'd never hear back from her.

A few weeks ago I got an email titled "Is this really you?" from "Chris C****". I almost deleted it, assuming it was spam. It wasn't. It was Erica. Since then, we've exchanged long emails and talked on the phone one Friday afternoon for about two hours. I learned that she was a nurse, lived in Florida, is married and has two little boys. One a bit older than Sam and one a little younger, and that she’s 13 weeks pregnant. This weekend she was visiting her mom in Connecticut. I drove down for the day and spent the afternoon with her family and a lot of old friends from high school that I haven’t seen in almost sixteen years (How is it possible that I have been out of high school for almost 16 years?). It was great.

Erica and I were inseparable, best friends my freshman, sophomore and junior year but not very close by the time we graduated. I honestly can't remember exactly what happened to change our friendship and I don't think it matters anymore. As I sat in her mom’s kitchen, all of the good memories came back and it felt like yesterday.

It took me three hours to drive home in the snow. Grace woke up as I was getting off the MASS Pike and didn't go back to bed until after 11 last night...but it was worth it. I'm so glad I went. I'm so glad I have a new, old friend.

Thanks Mom

My mom found out that she was pregnant five months after Roe v Wade made abortion legal. She was 19 years old and in school studying to be a dental hygienist. She and my father had recently broken up and she didn't want to get back together with him. I don't think that she had a lot of plans for her future, but I know a baby wasn't part of anything that she had imagined.

A few years ago I asked my mom if she had ever considered having an abortion. "No. Not once." was her reply. She admitted to being scared and even angry that this was happening to her. She didn't feel ready to be any one's mother. However, she knew in her heart that things happen for a reason. No matter how difficult becoming a mother was going to be she could not imagine ending the life inside of her.

My mom wasn't a Christian then. Her reason for keeping her baby had nothing to do with faith or with religion. It was a decision that she made because her heart told her that although a baby would change the course of her life forever, having me was the only real option.

My mom married my dad and I was born six months later. She never finished school. Life has not always been easy, in fact at times it's been really hard. Evenso, I know that she has no regrets. She would be the first to tell you that God used an unplanned and unwelcome pregnancy into something that changed her life for the good.

Thank you mom for never thinking of me as a problem, an inconvenience, a mass of cells, blob of tissue or a choice. Thank you for loving me and valuing the person that I was and would become more than your own hopes and dreams. Thank you for making a decision that made your life harder at the time but later, brought joy.

Today is the 35 th anniversary of Roe v Wade. Since 1973, more than 46 million unborn children have been killed in the United States. Please join me in praying that God would change the hearts of this nation. If you haven't, I would encourage you to look at the Abort73.com website, their button has been on my sidebar for a while. If you agree and you blog, I ask you to consider putting it on yours. I feel like we are at a point in history where it's never been more important for people to see and hear the truth about abortion. Too many blindly believe that the issue is about constitutional rights and choice rather than human life.

National Sanctity of Life Day

For several weeks, each time I sit down in front of my computer a little voice in my heart tells me to write about abortion. I have not listened. After all, this isn't that kind of blog. It's not serious, or deep. Honestly, it's not really about much of anything. Not to mention, that for the most part, it's read by my good friends and family, people who feel the same way that I do about abortion.

Today in church our pastor talked about Joshua. A man who inspired faith, a man who didn't spend a lot of time thinking about what he should be doing, but acted instead. A man who had courage, not because he had a great army or arsenal of weapons, but because he knew he was carrying out God's work and had God on his side. We were encouraged to stop waiting for others to take the lead in areas that God has given us a burden for. As I sat and listened, I heard that little voice again. It said, "You need to write about abortion."

A few minutes ago I was eating lunch and looking at new posts on my reader....Quite by accident I stumbled across the story of Trisha and Nathan Lawrenson and discovered that today is "National Sanctity of Life Day".

Sometimes God's voice is so clear. I'm still reluctant to write about this issue and am praying that God will give me the words and wisdom to do it in a way that reflects his love and grace. In the mean time, please take the time to go over to Nathan's fathers blog and read what he wrote about the sanctity of life. I promise you will be both challenged and blessed.

The return of an old friend

An old friend showed up on Wednesday evening completely unannounced. I haven't seen her in two years and I wasn't entirely thrilled that she's decided to show up after so long. Our relationship wasn't always this way. I met her when I was 14 and I was so excited. Most of my friends had met her long before me and I had actually been jealous. I can remember checking several times a day to see if she had decided to befriend me too. In fact, now that I think about it, I lied when I was 13 and told everyone that I knew her too.

Back then, she never made me feel fat or tired me out. She didn't complicate my life or cause me to start keeping a calendar and a thermometer by my bed until I had a chance to get to the doctors. No, back then life went on as usual, only I was suddenly more sophisticated and worldly. Her friendship made me a woman, ROAR!

Okay, more seriously, I throw this question out to the blogosphere. Just about all of my friends use the pill for birth control. I can't take it. It makes me more of a lunatic than usual. I've been on every dose and version of it. I HATE THE PILL. So if the pill is not an option, what do you use?

Do you have any thought on IUD's? My midwife suggested one after Grace was born. When I told my mom that I was considering it, she freaked. She thinks that it causes spontaneous abortion. I did a lot of reading and this doesn't seem to be completely true. My interpretation of the literature is that IUD's prevent fertilization and if it fails to do this, it makes the uterus a "hostile" environment for the fertilized egg. I don't know how I feel about that. Thoughts?

I understand that some people may feel that this is too private to discuss here. If you're not comfortable leaving a comment but have any thoughts for me, please send me an email. I'd really appreciate it.

A good reminder...

I complain a lot about the weather in my little corner of the world and dream of moving someplace warm and a lot less expensive (where a half million dollars buys you your dream home and not an 1800 square foot cape). However today, chilly as it was, was a day that I was struck by the beauty of this place and remembered that yes, I really do love it here. I don't think any other place could feel so much like home.

In the summer, this harbor is dotted with sailboats. When Brad and I first met, he took me fishing for Stripers here. He and a friend shared a little boat with a little engine that was perfect for trolling around the harbor. Dressed in jeans and sweat shirts, we drank beer and ate sandwiches as the fish literally jumping out of the water around us. The night was clear and the sky filled with millions of stars. I caught nothing on my own, but he let me real a bunch in. The future was unknown and it was a wonderful night.

We got married in this town and had our pictures taken with this harbor as a back drop. My friends tell me that it was freezing cold (and from the pictures, I'd say it was), but I hardly noticed.

Now we are lucky enough to have this place to bring our kids to play. Even in the cold, they loved playing at the park. I think Sam summed it up best, "It sure is beautiful, huh?"

I'm done, no I'm not, yes I am....

I've been thinking a lot lately about having another baby, or more accurately, not having another baby. Since I was a little girl, I thought that I'd have three...However, while I was pregnant with Grace, I swore that unless they discovered a way for Brad to carry our child, I was done. After delivering her, my resolve was even stronger...no more babies, well, definitely no more babies without an epidural....okay, maybe I'll have another baby....

Two months ago I was feeling like I was ready...However because my children LOVE nursing (I've been lactating for 3.5 years...I know you are jealous...), I've been fortunate to have had only two periods in the last 51 months...though not impossible to get pregnant, this makes it kind of hard to try in any calculated, methodical way...

Over the last several weeks, I've started to feel like I'm done. Although I really love big families, I've never thought that I could handle more than three and certainly not more than four. I'm starting to realize that I really might not be able to handle more that two. I love my kids and I am so thankful that we were able to have them, but I want a piece of my former life back. I never thought that I would feel this way and I'm a little embarrassed to admit that this is where I am right now.

I want to do things for me. I want to get regular hair cuts and go to the gym. I want to go on vacation and be able to enjoy it. I want to go to CT to visit my family and have my kids sleep. I want to be able to go someplace other than The 99 for dinner. I want to be skinny again. I want to sleep for say 6 uninterrupted hours. I want to apply for The Amazing Race with my sister. Right now, these things are starting to seem possible (like 18 months away for everything other than the Amazing Race....that is probably 18 years away...), a new baby will delay them for three or four years. As I write this, I hear how selfish I sound. It's terrible, really not like me but exactly how I feel right now.

At the same time, the thought of never having another baby in the house makes me sad. I didn't think that Grace would be my last so I didn't treat each day with her like I would have if I'd been thinking, "You will never do this again." Do you know what I mean?

I keep going back and forth. On one hand, every day I think, "what if I'm possibly pregnant right now? I think I'd cry." But on the other, I can't seem to actually get rid of anything. Just yesterday I put outgrown clothes from both my kids into bins in the basement. I tell myself that it has nothing to do with saving it for another baby and more to do with being a pack rat and I almost believe it.

I fear that a third pregnancy will finish me...as in wipe me out and remove any trace of the girl that once was. I don't know if my esophagus can handle throwing up every single night for nine months. I don't know if I can be a milk producing person for another two years. I'm really scared that a third pregnancy will remove any chance of ever reclaiming anything that resembles the body I once had.

I'm also afraid that I may someday regret not having another. Someday, when life is quiet and calm, when our children need us less, when we are well rested and don't have to wade through a sea of toys to get anywhere in our house, I will look back on these years and think, "That went too fast, it wasn't so bad, why didn't we have more..."

How did you know when you were done or that you wanted more? Any thoughts would be appreciated, cause this mommy is at a point where she needs to think about birth control or buying more nursing bras....

Have I mentioned that I hate winter?

It's 6 degrees here. My warm hand stuck to the handle of our storm door when I tossed a bag with a poopey diaper out onto the porch this morning. Even with the heat going, our house feels cold.

I know those of you who live in warm climates want to hop on the next plane and come for a visit. I don't blame you. There is so much to do in single digit weather with children. You can spend an entire two minutes outside before everyone starts crying. Oh, I almost forgot to mention that even if it were to warm up to say 12 degrees, our backyard is a giant slip and slide covered with sharp, hard, icy snow.

I want to go on vacation, but I don't. The thought of flying somewhere warm with my monkeys is almost as bad as the cold. The thought of paying to sleep somewhere other than home and have nobody sleep...well, why don't I just go camp out in my backyard? I think it would be just as pleasant. Trying to keep them entertained, watching them by a pool or at the beach? Yeah, sounds like lots of fun, lets go for two weeks. I bet I'd come home an alcoholic.

Enough complaining....the five weeks of nice weather that New England enjoys each year is only five to seven months away.