I know, I'm never in the picture and now it has been two in a row. I don't know. It is my last week as a mother of two and the last time I'm going to be pregnant. I'm trying to just get over myself and take pictures. I have the pregnant nose and the puffy feet, and that is just the beginning of the atrocities.
I have to run. John has taken the children away for two hours and I want to do some house projects. Time dwindles, and the mind reels with the desire to paint woodwork, change toilet seats, and scrub the floor. There are owls to sew.
Yesterday I asked John what he wanted to be when he grew up. His answer. A bird.
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