Where the boys see if I can fit a little humble pie into my ever-expanding waistline

Tomorrow is Clint's birthday, which is always exciting because it marks the beginning of 4 full months where I am not older than my husband. (Happy birthday, hon!!) Today, the older boys went shopping with me. On the way back to the car, I told them I felt like I had a basketball stuffed inside my shirt. They laughed. Then I asked if that's what it looks like. They both disagreed. One charmer said my stomach is WAY bigger than a basketball; it would have to be the biggest basketball in the world to fit in my stomach. The other sweet-talker said my stomach isn't shaped like a basketball at all, as a basketball would take up MUCH LESS space.

I felt like an idiot for asking their opinion. And like a goofball for thinking my pregnant belly is even close to the size of a petite little basketball. Thanks for clearing it up though, boys!

just so you don't get the wrong idea...

Let me give you another glimpse into me the mother.

Two days before Christmas, we took the kids sledding with some other families. None of those families was allowed to go down the bigger of two hills at the sledding park. I'll admit it... I thought that was sort of lame. We'd been down the big hill dozens of times with no incident. (You know what's coming, don't you? But I didn't.) I'd been hanging with Gabe on the smaller hill, then made my way over to the big one, to let Clint and the other kids know their friends wouldn't be able to join them there. Jonah was already lying in a heap on the snow, upset. He had gone off a jump, flown two feet in the air and landed on his shoulder. After checking it out, I smartly decided he was overreacting. He sat on a bench for the remaining 45 minutes or so, still upset. We took another look at it, decided it must just be bruised, and that was that. Of course, he wasn't using his arm much for the next FOUR DAYS. I still thought he was being ridiculous. Until Clint convinced me to take him to the doctor's, who sent us to the x-ray tech, who took a picture that looked an awful lot like a broken collar bone, which the doctor confirmed was in fact a fractured collar bone. Which left me feeling like that elusive mother-of-the-year award had slipped away... again.