This one is embarrassing, people. I'm hoping that someone else will come out and admit they share the same affliction.

You see, ever since I gave birth, my hormones haven't been the same...thus producing:

random, wiry chin hairs that can sprout seemingly instantly.

This causes a slight obsession. Before I go to bed at night and before I get in the shower in the morning, I must check my chin and neck - just in case one of these sneaky f*ck*rs stuck its ugly head out overnight. I carry tweezers in my purse, in my makeup bag, and in my car. Just in case. I try to (sneakily) feel my chin throughout the day and get myself to a mirror if I detect one. I don't know if people just don't notice this act, or they think I'm pensively contemplating life while I feel my face up.

They are the bane of my existence. I vow that, if I ever hit the lottery, the first thing I spend my money on is LASER HAIR REMOVAL. STAT.

Please jeer quietly. I have a fragile ego. Thank you.

True Confession Tuesday Edition 3

At least I think it's #3.

This week's confession is: (drumroll, please):

I must read something while I'm...uh...dropping the kids off at the pool.

And if I'm not reading, I'm playing this:

My beloved Yahtzee has a place of honor on the back of the toilet. Once, tired of my bragging about my gigondously high score, my husband replaced the batteries. Wiped out my score, the bastard. If he does it again, I might have to go Lorena Bobbitt on him.

If I'm into a good book or magazine article, I might be in there until my a** gets numb. (Plus it gets me some peace and quiet for a while. Husband is deathly afraid of my aftermath. As he should be.) At someone else's house? I just find something in there to read. A shampoo bottle, condom wrappers, whatever might be within reasonable reach. I do not go into medicine cabinets or drawers looking for reading material, however. I'm too paranoid that the homeowner would find out I was snooping.

This whole reading phenomenon is not just limited to the bathroom for me, BTW. I read e-v-e-r-y-w-h-e-r-e I can. Riding in the car, eating by myself at the table, before bed, while watching TV, on the porch, in a box, with a fox, on a boat, with a goat ---(whoops, sorry. Read Green Eggs and Ham to munchkin tonight). I have been doing this ever since I learned how to read (my uncle and siblings swear I was 2 1/2 yrs old - I don't remember exactly but I know it was before nursery school). It's a habit...bordering on a sickness, really. But I LOVE it.

I feel cleansed. Thanks for listening.

TruCoTuesday hasn't caught on quite yet...play it with me!

True Confession Tuesday

So here we are at the second edition of True Confession Tuesday, in which I reveal a deep, dark secret about myself that may or may not make you throw up in your mouth a little bit. Today? That might happen for those of you with queasy tendencies. What could it possibly be, you may ask?

Picking zits is therapeutic for me.

My husband swears that I should've been a dermatologist, but I don't just pick anyone's zits, and I don't actually pick my own. My husband is usually the victim. I even bought one of these, which greatly aids in the picking process:

Rest assured, I wash my hands and use hot water and all that. My husband is the perfect specimen and his back is the perfect canvas. This isn't by any means an everyday occurrence, but it happens more when I'm stressed out for some reason. The process is soothing to me. I know I'm not alone in this; I used to work with a couple of girls that were the same way...only one of them tried to recruit her daughters to pick hers. I draw the line at that--I won't ask M to partake in this when she gets older.

And for those of you who think this is disgusting? My husband's college roommate used to pick at something way, WAY more repulsive than this. I mean, when he told me about it, it totally turned my stomach. It's so gross I can't even type it.

So feel free to leave your opinion - pick or no pick? Too gross for you, or are you a little intrigued?

Play along, if you're so inclined!

True Confession Tuesday - first edition

I'm sure this has already been taken by someone else, so I apologize if it's anyone who reads this - I googled it and didn't come up with anything recent. If there's a Linky of some sort, I'll play along...just let me know about it!
**See below**

Since I've realized that coming up with blog fodder is HARD, I think a theme, however occasional, might help me a bit. So that's where True Confession Tuesday comes in. Oh, they won't all be revelations, that's for sure. Most of them will be pretty inane and stupid. Hopefully some of you will be able to relate, maybe get a little conversation going. We'll see.

This week's confession:

I have not yet decided whether I will have a second child.

Why is this such a confession? Because society, as a whole, puts a guilt trip on those of us who only have one kid. Maybe not intentionally, but it's there. It just naturally follows the "So when are you getting married?" and "When are you going to make us grandparents?" questions that many of us are SO fond of. People aren't at all shy about making these bold statements: "When's Molly getting a sibling?"; "You can't have just one! It's not fair to the only child!"; and my personal favorite - "You're not getting any younger!".

Bastards.

The thing that sucks is...I sort of feel that these stick-my-nose-in-your-businessers are right. Let me just say that neither my parents nor my ILs are guilty of these little gems. In fact, my mom is the one who tells me not to listen to them-that I should have more because I want them. She isn't a big believer in having them incredibly close together, either. My older sibs are 5 yrs and 4 yrs apart, then there's me: 10 yrs after the youngest. Oops! What gets me thinking about this is mortality, basically.

I used to work in an intensive therapy program for people with aphasia. (Intensive comes from the fact that our clients would come from all over the country and spend weeks with us, getting 23 hrs of therapy per week.) During my time there, I met lots and lots of awesome people. Some would come alone, many would come with family members-spouses, siblings, children. I saw and talked to so many of them who felt guilty about being in their position...they viewed themselves as burdens on their families (which they most certainly WERE NOT. but you could tell them that all day long; they still wouldn't believe it). Clients with several kids usually had them all take turns cycling through, staying a few days or a week at a time, then the next one "took over". Clients with only one kid? Well, one could definitely view it as being more challenging for the caregiver and child, not that I ever heard that. Ever. My point? I don't know what the future holds, and I don't want Molly to have no one else to lean on when husband and I get old. It really doesn't seem fair.

And then: I'm NOT getting any younger. I am now what would be deemed "advanced maternal age". I was so damn lucky with Molly...conception didn't take longer than 3-4 months, pregnancy was pretty much a breeze, and the birth--I had the blessed epidural. 'Nuff said. No guarantees the stars would align for that again. I had raging PPD that made me pack on a lot of pounds and really question my ability to parent. I don't want that again. And as happy-go-lucky as my kiddo is now? Not so much in the first 4 months. Not quite colicky, but damn fussy. I'm not sure I can handle that again, and if not that, the lack of sleep....

And yet something else--I don't want my child to grow up thinking the entire world revolves around her. It's natural to have that inclination as parents of an only child...you do things to keep them entertained (and I know damn well that part of this is our fault) and, well, the world does revolve around her right now. I mean, we also do our own things, but she is an active participant in many of them . She is also the only grandchild right now on the IL side, and is practically one on my side (since my youngest niece was 13 when M was born). In other words, she IS the universe when at grandma and grandpa's house. Having a sibling would, let's say, bring her back to reality.

So that's the first confession. A lot more involved and less lighthearted than I originally planned, but trust me, it's alllll downhill from here. Thanks for sticking with it!

I'm still figuring out this Linky stuff, so bear with me and play along if you want (although it's almost too late)!