Are you ready for some fun?

My personal favorite photos from 2009.

(Yeah, prob’ly would’ve been a little better set some time in early January, but I just now thought of it.)

These two of Doodle are perhaps not my favorite pictures, but this is definitely one of my very favorite moments from last year.  Hardly into this and I already contradicted myself.  Oh well.

Doodle, in all his pick-my-own-outfit, 3yo sweetness, spontaneously heeding my command with a cheery,

Yes!  My Majesty!

By now I shouldn’t have to tell you who made the hat, should I?  And who should totally have an Etsy account?

Right.  You guys are so smart.  Mom, you are so cool.

Drumroll, please!

Ladies and gentlemen (if there are in fact any guy bloggers out there -doting husband aside),
Allow me to proudly present,

The Very Best Picture of All Pictures Ever Taken in 20o9…..

I really don't think words are necessary.

It’s convenient that this picture doesn’t need a caption, because it leaves me rather speechless.  Yes, of all the sweet, cute, “awww”-moment pictures taken last year, this one tops them.  It is truly 2009 in a photo.  Why?

I hate been pregnant.

It aught to be a four-letter word.  That’s how I feel every time I write or type it, you know.  The “I’m not really allowed to say this word but I guess I’ll say it anyway” sort of feeling.  <chuckle>  It’s really great when I tell you how it really is and say that (close your ears, sensitive ones) ”Pregnancy, for me, is hell.”  <guilty chuckle>
(gasp!  Did she really say that?!)
Oh yes, my friend, I did.  It really is that fun for me.  I feel totally justified using that descriptor, and I might even add that it’s hell for my Sweetie, too, but he’s the Bishop and he doesn’t use that sort of language.
<insert more chuckling>

And given that I was preggy for the great majority of 2009…. Yeah.
This picture is perfect.

Yes, babies are TOTALLY worth going through hell and back for.  Ikes!  That’s thrice in one post! Yes, I whole-heartedly and most sincerely will go on record stating that I wouldn’t change the close placement of our children for anything. (You should see them play together, you really should.)  Heck, I’d go through it all again and more to get them here in our family where they belong.

So, given all that, maybe some day I’ll gain a “little” extra patience, a “little” extra tolerance or long-suffering or something that will enable me to not visable twitch when I think that 7-letter P word.

Maybe one of these pregnancies <twitch> I’ll be able to get through it with a “little” extra something that will keep me from being incapacitated emotionally – which, as you know, makes mothering a “little” bit difficult.
(There.  I said it.  Did you notice?  No, we’re not “done,” thank you very much for not asking…)

But for now, we just won’t talk about it.

(Seriously.  Don’t bring it up.  My eyes will get all squinty at you and you don’t want that.  It’s the closest I get to a glare and it isn’t pretty.)

You can all breathe a sigh of relief and come back to this blog with great pleasure, knowing I’m completely done now bemoaning the difficulties of getting the amazing-and-totally-worth-it Mr. Freedom here.  Yep.  All done.  Got it all out, and life can move on.

Yay!

PS:  As a side-note, now you know why my kids are as cute as they are.  I mean, everybody knows that the more miserable the pregnancy <twitch>, the cuter the kid, right?
Right.