First of all…no, this is not my desk. If I had a desk, it would probably look something like this one…so we will call this random picture I found while looking at organization companies good until I have the energy to go buy a desk. Kudos to the photographer here though…nice “Working Mom” vibe thing you’ve got going on.
So here we are. Another “Mom” blog that may never see the light of day. But you know what? That’s okay. I’m not really doing this for you anyway. Well….not right now. If this ever turns into one of those fantastically awesome mom things like “Woah Susannah”or “That’s Inappropriate” …I may have to re-think that statement.
For now, this is for my Seven Little Darlings. Yes, you read that correctly. I have seven children. Yes, I know what causes that…and yes, they were ALL on purpose.
I’ve noticed over the years as our family has grown that people give a look when you dare to admit you have more than 3.5 tiny humans running around your front yard. Quick side bar to say just how stupid that is by the way. Like anyone has .5 of a kid doing much of anything. Okay….moving on. A look that vanishes into thin air when we explain that 5/7 of our children are adopted.
“Oh! Well that’s different!”
But why is it different?
Why is choosing to adopt these children acceptable, but going through 40 weeks of pregnancy seven times is somehow seen as a questionable decision? In all fairness, re-reading that…I guess volunteering for 280 collective weeks of pregnancy does seem like grounds for a vacation in the loony bin. Not the point I was trying to make…..and ugh, I think I just used the lattice method without even meaning to. Damn you 4th grade math! Yes…I just said a “Swear“. I do that. I blame the Seven Little Darlings.
Two of my Little Darlings are 20. No, they are not twins. I also have a 17 year old, a 14 year old, a 12 year old, a 9 month old girl, and a 9 month old boy. Yes, the 9 month olds are twins. No, they are not identical. One has a penis. The other does not.
For my own safety from the majority of my Seven Little Darlings, I will not be sharing their names. Which is really too bad in my opinion… but not worth teenager wrath. My husband, who I haven’t exactly told about this little adventure (Yet)…..I will lovingly refer to as Mr. Goofball. That may be subject to change. He might not appreciate that come to think of it.
So that’s us in a nut shell. Not TLC reality TV material, but fairly confident blog worthy.