How can I tell? One of my daughters must be pregnant. And to think, not too long ago Thanksgiving was my very favorite holiday.
Details to follow when I can string a sentence together properly.
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Years of living with kids from the foster care system have made me a little nuts. Despite having adopted some kids, they constantly remind me, in so many little subversive ways, that I'm not the REAL momma and I never will be, no matter how hard I try.
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The four most scary words in the world for me are: "Mom, I'm pregnant."
I've never heard those words. First, no one calls me "mom." And, this time last year, it was my brother who told me Alli was pg. Back in May, Boy Wonder told me she was knocked up. This time, I figured it out on my own. I guess I've learned something, huh?
3rd time's a charmmmm.... Maybe this time's gonna stay in the full 9 months... Let's hope.
I'm thinking that maybe the other alternative would be best. Two people, 1/2 a job, one child already, no post high school education, no specific job skills, and near zero initiative. We are talking even more of a liability than the usual child.
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