Blessed Lobotomy

Browsing through iPhoto is especially meaningful when kids come along.

"Pumpkin, who's this?"

"Dada!"

"Very good! Now how about this one?"

"Hah bout Baba!"

"Yes! That's Grandpa!"

But the best part of picture perusing is the complete lack of any painful memory. God, in his timeless wisdom and mercy, just knew that we'd just curl up and suffocate ourselves if we could feel even one tenth the pain of childbirth. Or the vacation where we got on each other's nerves. Instead, this memory will self-destruct after one scrapbook. The remnant is a beautiful, staged memory of the past.

Here are the best uncomfortable-but-the-picture-prooves-otherwise memories:

Two weeks after the Hot Tamale was born. My female parts are radiating fire! And I'm sucking in my stomach like I'm going to swim the English Channel under water.

Love this one! Aren't my children happy, fluttering and dancing in the breeze? That trash itches! Bluebonnets are ridiculously tall and every manner of biting beasty feasted on their smooth baby skin that day.

Remember that awesome scene where they dance around the fountain in Enchanted? That's us frolicking in the EXACT SAME SPOT in NYC! Nevermind that I had walked nearly six miles miles that day eight months pregnant. I was a ball 'o crabby patty all day.

So touching, so tender! Little Dude's first birthday! I have absolutely no recollection of pushing him through the birth canal ten minutes earlier. Literally two minutes before this doc was stitching away...

Five minutes before a torrential downpour and 60-degree weather. In West Texas. In May.

Whoops! That's actually a miracle--point not proven at all.

Only save the skinny, smiley pictures and voila! instant rosiness! Thank you, thank you, thank you for these gracious lobotomies!