VASECTOMY. (Insert the oh no she didn’t’s here…) Yeah. I did. I just went there. Want me to type it again? VASECTOMY. The scandal!

Here’s a spiffy lil pamphlet Jamin picked up at the Urologist’s office the other day.

(These are so ugly, I almost didn't want to post them.) Apparently you need to be nearing fifty and have the delicate balance of awkwardness and complete lack of attractiveness in the style department in order to warrant one of these.

Are they happy that they had this procedure done? He doesn’t exactly look thrilled.

Maybe even nearing constipated. But on the bright side, she seems totally stoked in every single lithographic portrayal. (Hello Urologist pamphlet publishers. Call me when you’re ready for a redo.)

This booklet gets a little graphic, complete with R rated pics that sent me into fits of giggles. Yeah. I’m THAT person. No, I won’t be showcasing them here. Blog = PG

I am also THAT mom, because I made the mistake of leaving it on the end table the other afternoon, and when Aiden woke from his nap, he went straight for it. He opened it from the back before I could dive in and wrestle said racy pamphlet from his innocent little fingers. (THANKFULLY he avoided the detailed diagrams. I couldn’t go there, and may have told him it was a view of the ground from an airplane had he asked...See that island there? Oh that? That’s a river and there’s a little man on a raft. He’s fishing. Trout. Maybe we can visit there next spring. Now go play with your cars and let’s pretend this never even happened. Read: Please do not venture to preschool and tell your teacher all about the nudey mag mommy was reading.)

Back to the subject of major under aged minors and publications on sterilization: I froze. Completely paralyzed, contemplating my options. Right in front of him, beside the chart of alternative birth control complete with vague illustrations, was a picture of a couple. In bed. He was shirtless, and so was she. Covered. But SERIOUSLY? Was it necessary? I think the people scoring these pamphlets already know how said event happens. {I SAID I giggled, alright?}

I didn’t think he noticed the illicit illustration, and I was going in for the classic distraction move when what he said froze me in my tracks. I wasn’t prepared to deal with such a question. “Hey Mommy?” He looked up at me with those inquisitive baby blues, pointing to the photo in front of him “Why are these people naked in the bed together?”

I think time, at this point, stood completely still while I took a moment to choke on my own bile at the word “naked” emitted from my 3.99 year old’s mouth. I then delved deep into my ancient roots of mommy infused cat like reflexes, and went for it. “Well, Baby,” I quipped. “Those people aren’t naked. He just has his shirt off to sleep, like Daddy does sometimes when he sleeps.” I then swooped in to compensate the offender and distract Aiden from any more questions. He was satisfied with that answer. SHEW.

Note to self: Oldest child is now an official living breathing human sponge. Take nothing for granted. Oh, and make the final edit of “crap” from vocabulary…

Yes, we are about to take the big dive. Or should I say Jamin is. And being quite honest, I have mixed emotions regarding said actions. He’s ready. While it will be nice to have HIS feet in the stirrups for once, I’m not entirely sure how I feel about it. This is a tricky subject to write about. Why? Because there are about a kazillion vehement opinions on the subject matter.

Some of you (my parents) are probably screaming at the computer screen, asking it if I’m insane, and in between unintelligible sentences, words like “reckless” and “idiot” are being spat along with the coke you were probably drinking. Some of you probably totally understand my emotions. Others may think we are making a premature mistake, along with more unintelligible sentences with words like “incompetent” and “closed minded”. The final option would be to completely agree with the act of a Vasectomy, under the strict premise that we should no longer be allowed to procreate, and perhaps should have been prohibited from that very act in the beginning…(again…probably my parents and/or Aiden’s Sunday school teacher.)

People have already been asking me how it feels to be ‘done.’ I looked around recently at a birthday party we were attending, whilst pregnant with Malone. We were the only couple there expecting no. 3. But I realized we suddenly have a big family. I crossed quickly from the threshold of mommy of one to that of three in my short experiences as such. The number three changes my perspective on a lot of things. My family feels complete. We can’t afford another child. Again, with the many perspectives thing, I want to pay for my children’s college. And give them a shot at life sans debt. All the things I was fortunate enough to experience. I want to provide for my children in a way I personally feel they should be provided for.

We have all that we can care for emotionally, mentally, spiritually and physically. Our quiver feels totally full. I feel capable of having a relationship with each child on a deep level. I have the perfect little set of two boys and a girl: our little sandwiched bookends. I also want to be able to enjoy my own free time every now and again. It seems impossible now, but eventually, I would like to be, dare I say it? Selfish.

That’s the rational side. My emotional side makes me kind of sad that I will never have another baby again. That’s all she wrote. I’m all “dried up.” I may feel a small twinge of nostalgically infused temporary memory loss with happy jealousy every time a friend has a new baby. Yeah. I’m complicated like that. Isn’t that why all the other women fawn over babies in public, anyway? Surely each mom can look back on her life (unless her last name is Duggar) and think of the time when she came upon this decision in some form or fashion. That’s just the way it is. So I guess I am ready. There’s just something in the finality of it all…Something about that sweet new baby I am trying to cherish. Because this really is it. And if not, we’ll be pregnant last month.

We are now officially the family who is no longer invited to anyone’s house because we have thee children. Or are we just forerunners to the rest of the “club?” In the meantime, I’ll be doing my best to keep all illicit reading material in a good ten mile radius from our house and clear of my children’s hands while I rustle up something better than chex mix for lunch and find the energy to wear something other than elastic pajama pants…maybe even a little mascara thrown in the mix if I’m feeling really crazy. Here’s to permanent birth control. Here’s to the beginning of the rest of my life. The beginning of our complete family, and to the selfish things, like being able to fit back into those notoriously skinny jeans …and staying in them.

Most importantly, here’s to acknowledging that my hands and heart are full, and being completely at peace with it all.

More here:

dear nap nanny

I know.

funny girl + sweet lil piggies