Ovarian Fireworks

Boy, howdy. Am I ever glad this man is not a cowboy. I think my ovaries would shoot eggs like fireworks if he was. Can't you just see him in a cowboy hat and boots? With spurs making their little jingly spur noise as he walked? Yes. He told me we could get a cute little old Paint for the kids one day. I hope that cute little old Paint comes with a hat and boots and spurs for Jake. Yes please.

Doesn't this picture melt your heart? Jackson is so happy and proud of himself. Jake is actually getting to hold a Jackson that is more than just a cute little baby blob. I don't know what I would do without these two. There's no way to be mad at anything when I look at this picture (or a couple others similar to it). I can't wait til he's home so we can take a million more pictures that are like this and cuter. And think of all the scrapbook stuff I'll have to buy so I can make pages for all those pictures.

Today while I was riding my horse, every part of me was happy (well, except for my poor butt and thighs. They were protesting). I knew I missed it. I missed how happy I am on the back of a horse. The only place better than the back of a horse is snuggled up with Jake and the baby. I love that even though I showered, if I smell my hands I can still smell horse on them. I love how spurs feel on my boots, even though I don't love that my feet have become pansies and feel bruised where the spur strap rests. I also love that Jake is pretty natural on a horse and actually asked to go to the barn with me, instead of me having to beg him to come. Can I say that I can't wait til he's home again?