Good news for the Loving family. We’re actually sneaking off for a few days on a spur of the moment beach mini-vacation. I can’t remember the last time we had a break like this.

And though I could sneak away to the free coffee shop wi-fi on this break to blog a couple posts and maintain some continuity here in the Land of Lovings I’ve decided to really take off these few days and have nothing more pressing than cuddling my babies.

So, I’ll catch you guys next week. I promise to be back on Tuesday rested, relaxed, sunburned and full of great new content.

See you soon!

5 years ago I cradled you in my arms for the first time. I looked into your eyes. Kissed your precious face. And became a mother for the first time.

I love you, my precious baby girl. Happy birthday.

I’m tired. Our little guy was up all night and while I should have used that time to blog a Total Truth Tuesday post it turns out it is harder than you might think to be witty and creative and truthful with a ferocious baby nursing for 2 hours straight. (Which is another post all on it’s own and is becoming a problem. I’ll be posting for advice on that later.)

Anyways, that said I still wanted to post my TTT post today. And so I’m going to do it quick and dirty style. With a list.

So, here you have it. Total Truth Tuesday. My top 5 TV Confessions. And for the record, I’m ashamed of each and every one of them.

1. I have a Season Pass on my Tivo for every single incarnation of the Real Housewives shows on Bravo.

2. The longest saved show on my Tivo is “Win a Date with Tad Hamilton.” I originally recorded it November 29th, 2006. I keep it saved because apparently I’m actually a 13-year-old girl. It helps me sleep at night.

3. I recently considered getting the Comcast DVR for the family room (our Tivo is in the bedroom) so I could record twice as many shows. Then I realized no one actually gets smarter and more productive by adding to the amount of hours they watch TV.

4. I would rather become a vegan vegetarian than give up my cable. Which, I am aware, is probably proof I need to give up cable.

5. Millionaire Matchmaker. Need I say more?

So, enough about me, what are your deepest darkest TV confessions?

A few months ago I got an email saying a spot had opened up in the BlogHer ad network and since I was on the waiting list I got a chance to be a part of it.

I was pretty darn excited. See, when I started blogging it was to keep family that was far away in the loop on what was going on in our lives. Then a funny thing happened. It saved my sanity. I started to feel less like a prisoner of my children and more like the aspiring writer I promised myself I’d become when I graduated college.

And then I found out the most amazing thing. People actually make money blogging! **gasp**

So, I was pretty excited about signing up with BlogHer.

As with any partnership there are rules and guidelines. I gladly accepted them. After all, I was getting paid to blog! Hurray!

Then I got my first ad revenue check. And my second. I was getting $60-$70 a month in ad revenue. I was pretty darn happy considering before this I had been blogging about my public humiliation for free.

But, one day I got an email from BlogHer. They had, apparently, been overpaying me. By a lot. And, my actual monthly revenue? It was more like $6-$7 dollars a month.

And since numbers can’t be typed in all caps, let me phrase my reaction like this:

SIX OR SEVEN DOLLARS A MONTH?!?!?!?!

It occurred to me that in order to adhere to their rules I had to turn down giveaways worth more than I’d made in the last 4 months with them. And it also occurred to me that I had given up some control of my blog (albeit only a small amount) for 6-freaking-dollars a month.

And, so we broke up. Which is why there aren’t any ads on the side anymore. And I can blog as often or as little as I like now. And I can giveaway anything I want. Or not.

Now if only I can avoid drunk dialing this ex in the middle of the night…

Dear God-

I’m not trying to tell you how to handle your business. I know you’ve got it covered.

But, I thought I’d mention something for you to consider. You know, in case you decide to do this whole creation/humanity thing again somewhere else.

I was thinking the other day that since it takes two people to make a baby, that maybe it should take two people to do other things for the baby. Like, you know, feed the baby.

I get that only one person can carry a baby in their body. And, to be honest, I’m pretty thrilled that I get to be the one to do it. And, even though I might complain sometimes, I really do love that I get to provide nourishment for this life that grew inside of me.

But, I’m worried for my husband. I think he’s feeling a bit left out. I can tell from the sounds of his snoring at 3 am that he is feeling like he’s missing out on something when I get to wake up every 3-4 hours to feed the baby. He’s pretending to enjoy the hours and hours and hours of deep satisfying sleep, but let’s get real. It’s a ruse. He wants to be a part of feeding the baby. And, I think he (and most men) would be much, much happier if they could also provide food and nourishment for their newborn child. Not to mention, they’d relish the opportunity to have deep personal knowledge of breast pads, nipple shields, and all the other accessories that accompany such endeavors.

I’m not quite sure exactly how this would work. I realize the current model might require some modifications. I’ll leave the details up to you. But, I just thought I’d mention it for any future projects you might have up your sleeve. After all, no one should be forced to sleep a deep and restful sleep all night every single night of the week. It’s just inhumane.

I’m pretty sure my husband would agree.

Yours Truly-

Jenna

For more Wordless Wednesday, head over to 5 Minutes for Mom.

Ivy is kind of fascinated with her brother. She’s trying to figure out this whole “new baby” thing we’ve got going on and nothing is more confusing to her than what is going on inside Trav’s diaper.

No matter how many times I explain it she is completely unwilling to acknowledge that his “boy parts” are something that are actually supposed to be there.

Which is why every time I change his diaper, our dialog goes a little something like this:

Ivy: “Ewwww, what’s that??”

Me: “Honey, that is Traveler’s bottom. Remember what I said? He’s different than you because he is a boy.”

Ivy: “Oh yeah! Okay…it’s yucky. Wipe it off.”

Me: “No, honey, I can’t wipe it off. It has to stay there, remember?”

Ivy, laughing: “Oooohhh. I see. Okay. Now wipe it off! It’s gross.”

And round and round we go. I guess I’d be happy if I could just get her to stop calling Trav “she” and “her.” Poor guy. Isn’t this how Hemingway ended up the way he did?

I am not remotely ready to handle certain aspects of parenthood.

I’m not ready to think about letting my kids out into the world on their own where I can’t protect them from all the scary bad guys.

I’m not ready to watch them realize the world is often unfair and unjust.

And, as I discovered yesterday, I am nowhere near ready to watch them fumble through awkward social encounters with kids who will try to wreck their self-esteem.

It simply hurts too much to see it happen.

Yesterday we were at a video shoot for a local ministry. They needed some kids to be in the video and my girls were invited. It was a fun experience for them and everything went well until Kai discovered the “big” girls who were also part of the shoot. And like any little girl, she just loves big girls and wants so badly to be around them.

The scene that unfolded as a result broke my heart. They girls couldn’t have been older than 10 or so, but to Kai they were practically grown-ups.

Kai enthusiastically approached the bigger girls and tried to get them to notice her.

“Hey! Do you like my outfit. It’s my Nina’s outfit. Well, not my Nina’s outfit, but she gave it to me. I mean, she bought it and had it at her house and then she helped me get dressed today. So, anyways, do you like it?”

The girls only response? They rolled their eyes and started laughing at her. And Kai covered her face with her hands and walked away.

At which point a part of my heart broke away.

Honestly, my face got hot and my eyes teared up and for the first time I realized that I would never be able to protect her from feeling small or silly or unwanted in a social setting. I’ve always known that there are mean girls out there who will hurt her feelings or belittle her and that no matter how fiercely I want to protect her it will be impossible. That was my elementary school & middle school experience every single day. But to see it happen to my little girl right in front of me and to be powerless to do anything about it nearly did me in. Especially while I’m high (or low) on post-partum hormones.

Luckily I was able to soothe her heart and build her back up in time to send her back out to play with the other, smaller kids. But that was this time. What about next time? How will I protect her from mean kids? How will I prevent these types of things from crushing the beautiful vibrant spirit she has and that she tries to share with everyone she meets?

It hurts to know that this is part of growing up. And that it won’t be the last time I have to see her hurt because of a mean kid. But, I’m hoping (and praying) that God will give me the wisdom and sensitivity to handle these occasions with a spirit that will turn these into experiences that make her a stronger more compassionate child.

How have you handled bully problems with your kids? Have you had to deal with physical and/or emotional bullies? How do you make sure your child walks away stronger than before?

This may be my favorite baby picture of any of my kids. His expression cracks me up!

For more Wordless Wednesday, head over to 5 Minutes for Mom.

When Thomas and I got married we agreed that we wanted 3 kids. We didn’t care if we had three boys or three girls. But three was the magic number.

And now we have three. Three precious wonderful magical kids. And when I’m holding them on my lap or snuggling under a blanket with them and watching movies I think to myself, “I could totally do this again.”

I know that without hesitation we will. ‘Cause we’re not done.

Meagan wrote a great post the other day over at Larger Families where she asked the question of how you know when you’re done. And it’s something I wonder about all the time. While I was pregnant my doctor must have asked me a dozen times if I wanted to tie my tubes. I never wavered, but she continued to ask. Even in the operating room the nurse asked me to confirm whether or not I wanted my tubes tied. To be honest, it felt a bit like they were all waiting for me to come to my senses. Maybe they were.

The first night we were home with Trav I considered whether or not I could be done and satisfied with the size family we have. I remember thinking that our family just didn’t feel finished. I think the answer is different for every single family. And I think it’s something everyone has to determine by their own standards. But, the problem is I wonder how I’ll know when we are done. Is it something you just magically know?

I’m know not one of those people who’s called to have a Duggar-sized family. I don’t judge supersized families, but I’m simply not organized and structured enough to manage a classroom that size let alone a family that big. But, three just feels incomplete. Three feels like someone is missing.

So, at the risk of getting comments like, “Don’t you know what causes that?” or (my favorite from this last pregnancy) “Don’t you realize there is population crisis?” - I know we’ll do this at least one more time. Though don’t be expecting an announcement anytime soon. I’m gonna enjoy being in a non-pregnant state for quite a while.

Until then, I’m gonna cuddle my new little man and enjoy the fun (and drama) of my two girls. And hope that someday in the future we’ll get the chance to live this baby bliss all over again.

What about you? How did you know when you were done? Was the number different than you had planned for yourself?