Ok, so I am behind on that whole “post something cute once a week” promise I made a while back.  What can I say?  I suck.  End of story.

Anyhow, I decided to give my kids a break and share with you the cuteness of my cats.  We used to have 4 but now there are three.  One of the kittens was just not really socializing with people and was being squeamish and acting like a wild animal whenever we got too close.  With small kids, I can’t have that, so we adopted him out to a good place where he can get a little more one on one time.  This is who we are left with:

So she used to be called “Squirrel” or “Squirrely Girl”, right?  Well have I ever told you that I have a terrible habit of naming pets one thing and then giving them a nickname that is more their name than the official name?  Well I’ve done it again except this time I outright changed it.  So she is no longer Squirrel.  Her new name is Midgey.  She just looks like a Midge, and with the y on the end, it’s cute.  It is.

This cat has the intelligence of a muddy boot.  I have watched this cat try to jump on to high platforms only to splat in an epic fail kind of way.  I have watched her sit in her water dish and then tear ass through the house, traumatized over her wet butt.  She is dumb….but in an endearing sort of way.  She’s also very affectionate and fuzzy.  And fat.  She somehow got really fat.  I have no idea how it happened, but this cat got blumpy!  Again, in an endearing sort of way.  She’s my flufflepuff and I like her a whole lot.

I have had the hardest time sexing this cat.  As a baby, we were certain this was a male cat.  Now that they are nearing the 6 month age, we are pretty certain either this cat has a mutation where the testicles just never formed or it’s a female.  I’m pretty sure it’s safer to say “female.”  I used to call this cat Romeo, but now that the whole “Oh I don’t think you have a penis!” thing has happened, I’ve been calling this cat Sweety, since this cat is ultra mega sweet.  I’m not even kidding.  This cat is precious and darling.  I almost lost her due to a bad case of worms, but we were able to nurse her back to health.  She has emerald green eyes and a pink nose and she always meows very softly.  Sweety.

And there’s my beauty, Salem.  The only cat to retain her original name.  She hasn’t a speck of color on her.  She is pure black and her fur is thick and luxurious.  She’s an Alpha cat, but she’s sweet about it.  The only thing she gets fussy and bitchy about is her perch on the top of the cat play station.  That is where she sleeps and if another cat is up there when she wants it, she simply jumps up there, whacks the out-of-bounds intruder and lazily claims her territory.  She’s also a bit of a sentinel.  She is watchful and protective of her family.  Any time guests come over, she inspects them closely before she can relax.  I catch her staring at me all the time, watching me.  She always has a loving look on her face, but it can be a little off-putting.  Never you mind about all of that.  Make it a point to always befriend a black cat.  They are good luck and make for good companions….unless they are the kind that like to shit in your shoes.  Thankfully, Salem is the nice kind.

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Ok, ok.  ONE picture of my boys before I end this.  And I’m only sharing this picture because I can feel my throat close up when I look at it because I am so touched by it.

Beautiful.

I haven’t taken the proper opportunity to show him off.

Untitled from Somer Canon on Vimeo.

This post was supposed to contain many more pictures.  Revealing pictures of my wrecked post partum body.  I didn’t chicken out, it’s just that my “photographer” (Jessie) had a moment and the picture session was nixed for the evening.

“But Somer,” you may be asking.  “Why the hell were you going to post pictures of your body and broadcast them to the whole world?  Are you just becoming desperate for attention?”  My simple reply to that is to say “fuck off.”  The more in-depth reply is to explain that my truth concerning my body is different from what super models who walk the runway in lingerie six weeks after giving birth have.  My truth is that my body never returned to what it was pre-baby.  My truth is that my stretch marks were not minimal and the stretched skin never really puckered back up.  My truth is that my belly button will always look a little weird and wrinkly now.  My truth is that there will always be a bit of a lip at the bottom of my stomach from where the loose skin hangs thanks to either c-sections or very large babies.  I wanted to post pictures of my truth to show that I have no regrets concerning this truth.  I have no fear of it.  I wanted to post it to give people who share a similar truth something to look at and smile a knowing smile.

I can fit into my pre-pregnancy pants.  My shoes all still fit.  My boobs deflate back to their sad and hilarious small size.  But I’m not the same.  I think most women who go through pregnancy feel that way.  Your body just isn’t quite the same.  Some changes are minor and are easy to forget.  Other changes are more glaring.  When I look at pictures of myself running around in small bikinis or shirts that revealed my super sexy belly button, my mouth might turn down slightly before I see another pictures of one of my sons.  I smile and say, “I gave those skimpy clothes a good run,” and go on with my life.

The pictures would have explained a lot.  Some people would gasp and say, “oh that poor girl.”  Others would scoff and say that I have it easy.  Each pair of eyes is a different filter and my truth colors differently through those filters.  I guess what I want to impart is that for me, it’s ok to be stretched out, saggy and discolored.  I still feel sexy.  I am someone with extra skin who has no intentions whatsoever to have cosmetic surgery to get me back to my 21 year-old body.

I won’t be wearing bikinis on the beach and I won’t be seen in half-shirts anymore.  Those days are gone and, quite frankly, I’m too old for some of that anyhow.  I’m not going to regret the loss of that taut skin or fear letting anyone see what has become of my body.  You know why?

That’s why.

And it doesn’t hurt that my butt still looks rockin’ in a good pair of blue jeans.

UPDATE

Alright, I said I’d do it and I meant it.  Just after Thanksgiving, I’m putting pictures of my naked ass on my blog.  I feel like I should perhaps have a drink before I hit the update button, but what the hell.  It’s not like this is the only place you can find naked skin on the internet.

Ah, the sagging skin.  The hilariously deflated belly button.  There’s a mole on my stomach that used to be right beside my belly button that has migrated, thanks to stretched skin, more to my side.

The c-section lip.  And the craziness of my stretch marks.  And oh yeah, some side-butt.  You can just ignore that last one.

Truth time folks: stretch marks happen.  Those fancy creams and oils on the market to prevent them or diminish them don’t do much.  Granted, my babies were rather large, but these stretch marks are NOT new.  Those suckers are still deep and discolored three years later.  And you know what?  I still manage to live and wear attractive clothes and let my husband see me naked.  It’s not the end of the world.

I’m 1 month postpartum.  It’s not going to get much better than it is now looks-wise.  My stomach might flatten out a tiny bit more, but the sagging and the stretch marks stay the same.  And I’m not sorry for it.