Shopping
So, I went shopping for some winter church clothes that don't either:
a)Show my cleavage
b)Show my belly button
c)That isn't see through
It's a hard thing to accomplish these days. Especially if you're a whole lotta woman, believe me. So, I was forced to go to the Big Girl store. Even though their smallest size, (14-16) fits me, I still consider it a Big Girl store, because of the fact that the largest size they carry is in the 30's. Yikes! Ok, back to my story. I wake up, and start to wash my newly boughten clothes. I try on the jeans, just to make sure that they're not too big. Then I feel this little marble size ball in my pocket. Umm...ok. That wasn't there when I tried them on in the store yesterday. I reach into the pocket, and I find a little rock. It kinda freaked me out a little bit. I thought, the boys must've put that in there. They do that all the time. But wait, they were at my mom's all night. They couldn't have done it. Oh, well. It must've been the little elves that come out at night. What can I say, God loves to mess with me.

Raised by wolves
When I was 11, I broke my bed by trying to move it. My parents didn't buy me a new bed until I was like 14. 14 people! I had to sleep on a mattress, on the floor, for 3 years! Actually, half of that time, I either slept on a blanket on the floor or in my sisters bed. Wanna know why? Oh, my parents met this weird lady at some conference. They felt sorry for her, and they let her live with us for like a year or more. Guess who lost there room to the weird lady? Me! It was so wrong. So very wrong! The lady slept on my mattress on the floor. My poor sister absolutely hated the woman. I think because she tried to be our nanny or something. It was a totally messed up situation. This woman was a total stranger, living in our house, sleeping in my bed, on my floor. Um...ya.

Boys will be boys

They're jumping on my bed...again.
They're pretending to chop each other up...again.
Bob and I are convinced that we're goin' out like the Mr. and Mrs. Menendez.

Why is everyone and their brother obsessed with asking me when I'm going to start "Trying again?" I mean, what is it of their business? It is a very rude thing to bring up after having lost a baby. Don't get me wrong, there are certain people that I don't mind talking with about the subject. But, other certain people just give me the willies when they ask me that question. It's like they're just asking me because they're being nosey, and rude. I'm confused on the whole subject as it is. (Whether to try again or not.) I don't need nosey's poking around, all up in my business.