Watching my sister gestate her future spawn, has put me in a contemplative mood as of late. It is no secret that I love my kids. With an all consuming, I'd-do-any-thing-even-die-for-you, type of love. But I lost sight of this feeling a few months back when I was eye deep in grief. Don't get me wrong dear internet, I knew I loved my remaining kids, I just couldn't feel anything but pain. But life creeps on, with or without all your babies. And joy is slowly starting to edge it's way back into my life. Laughter feels great, not just hollow anymore. Blogging has helped. This blog in fact, has helped me remember my life's joy. My other blog has helped me cope with my pain. If there was a way to blend the two, I'd do it. But I am happy with the status quo.
So it was with great delight when I
It must be tough to be surrounded by girls who already wear bra's and know what pantyliners are for, at age NINE! So Fric is desperate to encourage her own "growth." She is convinced she can help make this happen if she eats a lot of processed cheese and talks nicely to God. Which is what I found her doing this morning in front of her mirror. Pretending to be Pam Anderson and pleading with God to bestow breasts upon her.
I am so glad I grew up. I am going to sit back and enjoy my children's romp through puberty, or in my daughter's case, pseudo-puberty. But I won't be her kill-joy. Because who wants to know that their mother was every boy's Carpenter's Dream until aged 17?
**Sorry pic is so small, Blogger won't let me post it bigger. **