It’s Saturday, the sun is shining, and it’s finally cool enough here in Nashville that I felt inspired to make a big pot of homemade vegetable soup yesterday.

I’ve got a few links to share today for your blogging pleasure. Cue disco music.

In the good deeds category, ParentHacks had a great tip about how to clean your closets and package up your unwanted toys/stuffed animals for children in Iraq who would be thrilled to have them. It is a great cause and such a small effort that would make a child’s day. So blog for the greater good here people and spread the word. (Read on …)

Last night Malia of Musings from Malicious and I held the first Nashville blogger bunco gathering at, where else, the Mothership. While there was no gambling, next time we’re playing for cold hard cash ladies. Malia has photos and the list of winners over at her place!

Nicole at Sitting Still rode with me and we are still amazed at the fact that we live so close we could practically spit on each other or at least take our girls to the same playgound. I also got to meet Ginger from Gingersnaps on my blogroll, which was very cool. Other bloggers in attendance (and please forgive me if I leave you off this list) included: Jag from I’m About to Be Brilliant, Aunt B from Tiny Cat Pants, Katherine Coble at Just Another Pretty Farce, Tiffany from Tiff Sniff, Elizabeth from Harelipfrog and her mother-in-law Jean, Sarah Clark at the blog by the same name, Ivy from Bad Bad Ivy and Rachel at Women’s Health News.

We’re planning another fine evening of dice rolling fellowship at the home of Katherine Coble. I believe the quote for the evening was something along the lines of, “I’m a mother f*ckin’ dice roller!” Oh and I finally got to see the naked Ken dolls frolicking around the miniature disco ball in the birdcage in the Mothership’s women’s restroom. Let’s just say Jim let loose some mad interior design skills in the ladies restroom. Think Studio 54 meets Burt Reynold’s dressing room circa 1976.

Thanks to everyone who rolled the dice with us last night. It was great meeting you in person! And a big thanks to Jim at the Mothership for hosting a room full of cackling women who made reference more than once to male strippers.

Anne (Texas Belle) cracked me up earlier this week at her commentary on Halloween. I’ve ever been one to spend a lot of moolah on Halloween costumes. Caitlin wants to be a witch this year and I just snagged the cutest witch ensemble on Ebay, complete with hat, for less than $10, including shipping. My Ebay skills are not rusty after all. (At one point I was one PayPal purchase away from entering myself into an Ebay 12 Step program but then I took up blogging.)

I’d love to find Amelia a Dorothy costume (as in Wizard of Oz, not Wiggles Dinosaur friend), but so far the options on Ebay are out of my price range so she’ll probably wear Caitlin’s second Halloween costume from three years ago. Just look at how happy pissed off Caitlin looked at daycare dressed like a stuffed flower while all her other 16-month-old buddies were dainty ballerinas and princesses and fairies in tulle and lace. What you can’t see in this cropped photo is that I forgot to send tights or leggings to wear under her costume so she she basically went trick or treating at school as a diaper-clad flower with chunky toddler legs.

Last year Caitlin was a ghost, and I believe she was the cutest 3-year-old ghost in our neighborhood. Considering I have not a crafty gene in my body I was quite impressed that I somehow MacGyvered her ghost costume from a crib sheet and black felt and a little face paint.

Speaking of costumes, is it just me or is this “little girls” fairy costume online at Target vaguely reminiscent of a German beer hall girl? And would this costume be a red flag? You know Caitlin’s costume choices are fairly innocent at this stage. When she’s 8 will she proclaim, “Mommy I want to dress up like a Bratz doll! I need to show more navel!!” I really hope not.

Now this pet costume? Classic. Although I have no idea how people get their pets to actually concede to wearing a costume. We can barely get Bailey and Jack to stand still for their collars and leashes.

So do you buy Halloween costumes or make them? Do you dress Fifi up like a Hula girl? And, most importantly, when shopping for Halloween candy do you buy your personal favorites to ensure that any leftovers don’t go to waste?

Edited to add: I am not a big cat lover mainly because I’m allergic to them and if I spend time around a cat I end up clawing my eyes out and looking like I’ve been up smoking ganga all night. But here’s a link to some kitty costumes. I don’t want to leave out our cat lovin’ friends. Here kitty, kitty, kitty.

Dear Jack:

Sweetheart please refrain from obsessively grooming your paws at 3 a.m. Your zealous slurping and licking woke me up and I had a very difficult time going back to sleep seeing as you love to sleep on the floor right by the bed. You may be subtly trying to tell me you need to go to the groomer, and that is fine although you’ve never been the Metrosexual doggy type, but the next time you start in on a paw pedicure in the wee morning hours I’m going to have to move your bed over to daddy’s side because he can sleep through anything.

Love, Mommy

p.s. I’m already holding a slight grudge over the entire container of raw pork chops you ate off the patio table while I wasn’t looking. Don’t push your luck.

I just ran down to a little deli/bagel type restaurant (OK, OK…I drove) and I ordered my usual salad to go. The girl working behind the counter (who was giving off I AM NEW EMPLOYEE vibes like crazy) starts assembling my salad, grabs a handful of diced chicken, and then looks at the other guy behind the counter and asks, “This is chicken, right?”

Mayberry Mom tagged me last week a while back for a cool book meme but I decided to do her alternate meme on my Top 10 TV Characters. I’m going back in time to characters I loved from childhood in the 1970s and early 1980s. I’m sure there are more, but these are ones that come to mind.

The Bionic Woman (Jaime Sommers)…She and I share the same first name. I got a Bionic Woman “Barbie” type doll in 1977 or so for Christmas. Yes I remember that lame sound effect whenever she’d get her bionic groove on.

Laura Ingalls…I loved, loved, loved Little House in the Prairie. I wanted to wear my hair in braids and have picnics on the prairie and ride in a horse drawn wagon to a one room school house. I also wanted to slap the hell out of Nellie Olsen, but I was really scared of her.

Herman Munster…He was my imaginary friend when I was about 5. In fact, he lived under my bed. I think this was a tactic to keep the boogie man away.

The Robot on Lost in Space…Danger Will Rogers! Danger Will Rogers!

Thomas Magnum…One of my very first TV crushes. How can you resist a man in a red Ferrari with a cheesie moustache and tropical button downs?

The Incredible Hulk…Is it just me or were these some very psychologically heavy, angst filled shows? I think I aged a bit after each episode. I wanted to talk to him, fix him a glass of Kool Aid, maybe offer him a Hostess cupcake and tell him everything was OK.

Jerry Lewis…I’m not sure why, but for a while I was completely enamored with all old black and white Jerry Lewis movies.

Gidget…Yes, as a kid growing up in rural Middle Tennessee my life was about as far removed from 1950s California teen surfer girl pop culture as possible. And perhaps that was the appeal?

Lucille Ball…She is an absolute comedic diva. I loved these old black and white episodes, especially the chocolate candy assembly line and the making grapes scenes.

Wonder Woman…I wanted her jet black beauty queen hair that was perfect even after she kicked some villain booty. I also wanted her go go boots and her magic bullet deflecting bracelets.

Honorable mention goes to Shirley Temple, the Beav, and the Fonz.

I’m not going to tag anyone specifically, because I think I owe a meme from pre-vacation, but you might want to check out the book meme idea that Mayberry Mom posted.

We have a Sunday night curse at our house. No matter how great the girls sleep Monday through Saturday, and thankfully they are both typically sound sleepers, someone always wakes up in the wee hours Sunday. And if it’s not one of the girls, it’s one of the dogs. And if it’s not one of the dogs, it’s the neighbors’ dogs waking me up. So basically it’s a recipe for sleep deprivation and the reason I suck down a couple of cups of coffee on Mondays and often forget to wear earrings or put on deodorant. Amelia and I were up rocking at 1:30 and 3:30 a.m. And by rocking I mean rocking in the recliner and not rocking out to “If You’re Happy and You Know It,” which is one of her favorite songs. I’m not really sure why she woke up but I think the Dora Spagettios I bought as a “treat” for her wreaked havoc on her stomach.

Whenever we have a sleep deprived night I always marvel at how I managed to survive the first few weeks home with the girls without going insane from sleep deprivation. And then I thank God the girls are no longer newborns. Now I love babies. I just no longer get the itch to rent out my uterus to another human being. Hotel Uterus and its heated swimming pool are closed.

Now while we are very excited to be welcoming a new niece or nephew next March, I’ve started chucking baby equipment faster than you can ask, “So, ya gonna try for a boy now?”

There is a small part of me that is sad to close the pregnancy and newborn chapter, but there’s another part of me that is just happy to never deal with late pregnancy heartburn and washing all the 800 parts to my double electric breast pump ever again.

Here are a few indications that tell me I’m OK with not having any more babies:

I can hold a new baby and gladly hand them over the second they spit up or start to poop.

I read about moms over 40 getting knocked up and think, “THANK GOD that’s not me.”

I secretly calculate how old the hubby and I will be when the girls graduate high school.

I did a happy dance in the freed up kitchen floorspace formerly occupied by our monstrosity of a combo baby swing/highchair.

I’m looking forward to decorating Amelia’s “big girl” room next year.

I’m longing for the day when I am no longer responsible for someone else’s potty hygeine.

I can finally toss my copy of “What to Expect the First Year,” which started collecting dust after Caitlin’s first birthday.

I can’t wait to get rid of our Diaper Champ (next year, hopefully). Burn baby burn. I’m not sure why mothers rave on about the Diaper Champ like it’s the best thing since sliced bread as it’s just a glorified poop receptacle. Poop stinks no matter where you put it people.

So is there anything you won’t miss about the newborn days? Yawn.