How I Know I'm Through

I had a dream that I was pregnant - Fear ran through me like I imgained the venom from James's bite ran through Bella's blood...The pain, the agony!  I woke up in a cold sweat shreiking "Please God No!!!!!!!!!!!.  OK, so maybe I didn't really scream that out loud, but believe me, I wanted to.  It was at that moment that I knew for sure I was done.  Here are a few other reasons I know that 3 is enough.

If we have another baby, one of our children will be either riding in the trunk or strapped to the roof of our PT Cruiser, 'cause we sure ain't buying a car.  I guess we could paper, rock, scissor it before each trip.  The kids would like that, right?  

I have zero capacity to do any more laundry than I am currently doing. 

I DO NOT want to pay that $1,000 maternity copay yet again.

I'm afraid a new baby would be bigger than baby girl in a few months.  Poor little chunky monkey...  How would her esteem ever recover?

Baby girl is still riding in her infant carrier, and again, I am not buying a new one.

I'm tired of poop.

I enjoy sleep.

I still have my dixie cup-full of brain cells left.  I'd rather not reduce it to thimble size.

I really don't think it would be in the best interest of the other children if I was committed. 

Thank you God for the three sweet things you have given me.  I am blessed, but please know that I choose to be done.  I would appreciate it greatly if you agreed.

God so loved the Sanfords that He gave us Saturday Night Service

It is a well known fact among us mommas that the devil doesn't want us to make it to church happy on Sunday mornings. I don't remember what I did to get in trouble on Sunday mornings as a kid, but I know it happened. What I do remember is going outside of the church and having to pick a switch --And our kids think they have it tough. I'm pretty sure that since mommas have been having to feed, clothe and transport children to worship, the devil has enjoyed the torment that ensues. Those poor little Israelite children probably even got their share of "the rod" way back in the desert. As if having to eat insect excrement (did you know that's what manna is?) wasn't enough to deal with - those mommas I bet had to deal with extra rotten children on the Sabbath.


My children are no exception. They are BAD on Sunday mornings. As my sweet grand mother in law, Mom Eastling used to say "The devil done jumped into 'em." The whining, the screaming, the hitting, the resulting crying.... CALGON TAKE ME AWAY! But alas, there is no time for a bath in luxurious boxed bath salts, nope. We have to load the little demons into the car screaming and kicking, bottoms still stinging from a fresh "gentle love pat", buckle those flailing and tormented things in their seats and take the entire 3 minute drive to church to calm down.... the commute is too short for that though... Still screaming - yes me too - as we pull into the parking lot, we prepare to make it the building without having any children run over by a car. This results in some yanking and dragging because inevitably at least one of the children will think that this will be THE week that they can run through the parking lot unassisted. Next, we have to check all the children into the children's program. At least one will complain and another one will cry and we leave anyway without turning back.

Now - put on a smile, find a seat, and worship....

But God loves me, He really does, and I now know it. He gave me (and I'm positive 12Stone Church did this thing just for me) Saturday Night Service. We had our first experience this past week, and can I tell you no children were spanked in preparation for church? We got to sleep in, picnic at the park, spend the afternoon playing and then take our time getting ready for church. no rushing. And 5:00pm is the perfect time because fresh from a snack, the children aren't starving.. I love you God, I love you 12Stone, and I love you children, because the devil doesn't know about Saturday night service yet.