Tiff is a mother of seven. That's onetwothreefourfivesixseven children. I have half that and I am commitable. I don't know HOW I first met her; I just tripped and fell over her one day on the blog. And I stalked her for a long time, and now, we're buddies.
I love Tiff for a thousand little reasons. She can write a whole posts about doormats. She has beautiful kids, and takes lots of pictures of them, she's not as wordy as I am because she finds the right words the first time, every time.
Oh, and she makes me cry big fat chunky tears that make make my throat burn and make my eyes feel like I haven't slept in a week. Schindler's List cry. E.T. cry. (Shut up, I was 8 or something.) Only one other blogger thus-far, ever, has made me cry like that. She's next on my to-do list.
Tiff is one of the two bravest women that I have had the honor of becoming friends with through this zaney thing they call an internet. She is an advocate for her children, all seven of them, even the little baby up in heaven.
Maybe I don't believe in heaven, but I believe that her William is in heaven, and I don't care who tells me otherwise.
The best thing about Tiff is that when I asked her for a word or two about her for this post, she described herself better than I ever could:
This is me:
Old. Very old. I'm not kidding. What? Almost 36 is old.
Jelly like. After six children, I'm almost proud to write that.
Tone factor; Zero. Care factor even less.
Did I mention mother?
To alot of kids.
Yes, I DO know what a TV is.
Five of my own and two foster boys.
I know I said I had birthed six...
I've got an angelbaby.
I like photography, scrapbooking and fighting with our paediatrician.
Oh, and I like to write.
On my blog.
One more thing.
I'm an Australian.
Don't hold that against me.
Aussies are cool...
at least WE think we are!
Do yourself a favor...go spend a little time with her. She is wonderful.
Next up; Loralee. Dude, I told you I was outting our love.