I blame my kids.

I told Holly I felt like a traitor. Of who? I'm not sure. Maybe myself? More than just eating my words (in bunches.) I feel myself changing. Been changing. I even look like I've changed. This blog used to be all She-rah! Infertility Angry Chick Going to Change the World and Drop Kick all my Non-Compliant Patients And Anyone Who Gets In My Way! Hooorah! I had hard abs then to boot. Somewhere along the line, I went soft. Literally. The very existence of what even resembles abdominal muscles today is a complete and utter joke.

I like a good joke. I like to read funny blogs. Love to LMAO. I, myself, am funnier (I've been told) when I'm fired up. But it's been a long time since I felt really fired up.

Infertility has a way of firing you up. And rightfully so. You feel so many emotions due to its very existence and as a side effect from treatments- the whole bit. There's a lot of fuel there for the fire. And without it, I'm another mommy blogger who was going to sit down a few minutes ago and post about canning peaches. Peaches. For the love! Millions of them. (wink, wink) Who wants to read about peaches? So very boring. So very soft. It's my kids. And a few other things, but mostly my kids.

August 2009. The day before I found out I was pregnant I was called as a counselor in the Relief Society. Aw, crap. I was hoping for a once a month calling and now I was a position where I've got to 'be a good example'. Crappity crap. The fact that I had a blog went on the down low. Not that I wanted to censor myself, but as we've already seen, anything you say can and will be used against you. Plus, I made a little side deal with God that I'd do whatever I was called to if he'd keep my belly bean safe. I started watching my mouth and to do that I had to filter some of my thoughts. And if I wasn't going to filter them I was going to be a whole lot more careful about publicly spewing them.

It had already started. Scrunch happened. No more Mommy Club hating. Then Porkchop happened. And I complained about the physical ailments of it all. No more hating preggos and those who use the word. I had to bite my tongue from over telling my labor story. Ugh. Porkchop's entire being has been a lesson in perspective so I try to be a little less judgmental. That one is hard what with all the idiots in the world. Scrunch learned to talk (and listen) and suddenly there are lot fewer "Hell yeahs!" On the phone I heard myself say, "Oh my heck!" Oh MY HECK!?! To Holly of all people. This has got to be a joke.This is no joke people! The Mayor of Crazytown does NOT say "Oh my heck!"

She does now. She's a softie. A good ole' mommy-blogger softie whose most exciting post of the week was going to be about canning peaches.

What a weird place to be. But good weird.

I blame these kids.