The Mommy Wars on the Front Page
14 May 2012 54 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: breastfeeding, controversy, extended breastfeeding, mommy wars, tandem nursing, Time
If you haven’t seen the latest cover of Time Magazine, you must be living under a rock. The title says it all: “Are You Mom Enough?” And just like that, the ‘Mommy Wars’ are in full effect on every social network. The picture, of course, has proven to be very polarizing, which, by the photographers own admission, was the intent. The reactions have run the gamut from applause to complete indignation and disgust. I’ve even read people equating it to child pornography and saying it borders on sexual abuse.
Well played, Time Magazine. Well played. Inflaming the mommy wars is going to sell a shit ton of magazines.
Since I have only read excerpts of the article, I am going to focus on what has proven to be the most controversial aspect of this issue: the cover. 
First of all, since I have read some people assuming otherwise, this IS a mother and her own son. Second, the child is 3 years old, not an adult. Get a grip, people! This is not earth shattering. This is not pornographic. Don’t take the bait, mothers. Don’t turn on each other.
I breastfed all four of my children. Number One was breastfed for a whopping six weeks before I switched to formula, thanks to an uneducated doctor that convinced me that I was not producing enough milk, since she wanted to nurse more frequently than every two-three hours. That dumbass. Number Two was breastfed for just under a year . Number Three breastfed for almost two years, when he self weaned and I plan on nursing Number Four for at least as long, longer if he wants. As mothers, we’re damned if we do and damned if we don’t. You didn’t breastfeed at all, you didn’t breastfeed for long enough or you breastfed for too long. You can’t win! Sadly enough, the harshest critics of mothers, aside from the mother herself, is other mothers.
This cover pisses me off. I am not annoyed for the same reason as a large percentage of the general public, who find this offensive simply because it shows a breastfeeding toddler. I could picture so many of the responders to this picture, clutching their hearts, aghast and fanning themselves before fainting. What I find off putting about this picture is that it is cold. It doesn’t give a hint of the bond between a mother and her child. The photographer has admitted that the shot was set up this way in order to make it seem awkward. He said he wanted it to appear uncommon. There was an alternative shot of the mother sitting on a stool and cradling her son, who appears to be asleep as he nurses. The magazine also shows pictures of several other women nursing their toddlers and even tandem nursing a toddler and baby. Obviously,’Time’ is in the business of selling magazines and making money and nothing does that better than kicking up a little shit storm. Inciting the mommy wars will do just that.
I want to address some of the statements that have been made in response to this cover story.
1) Breast feeding has no benefit after the first (insert arbitrary age, usually 6 months or 1 year): Bullshit. The benefits of breastfeeding don’t suddenly become null and void when the child reaches a certain age. Breast milk is constantly changing to meet the specific needs of your child. If your child is premature, your milk is tailored to suit the needs of your preemie. When your child is 6 months old, two years old or just sick, your milk is customized to meet his/her specific needs. If breastfeeding beyond teething is not your cup of tea, you’ll get no judgement from me.
2) Once they can ask for it, it’s time to quit: Why? My 5-month old “asks” to nurse. He cries or he tugs at my shirt. Sometimes, he pushes himself into nursing position and opens his mouth. When Number Three was nursing, he would walk up to me and climb on my lap, pull on my shirt and ask for “beebee”. Newsflash: being able to communicate and/or walk does not negate the benefits of breast feeding.
3) I wouldn’t want my children seeing this picture!: ZOHMAHGAWD! It’s a boob profile!! You absolutely MUST protect your children from seeing a child nursing. It could damage them for life to see this picture. Funny how no one bats an eyelash over the fact that children are exposed to sexualized images of the breast on a daily basis. Just while standing in the check out line of the grocery store, your child is exposed to images like: 
These women are showing as much, if not more, breast than the woman on Time, plus a whole lot more skin but this doesn’t ring anyone’s bells. If you were to attach a child to any of the breasts on the above pics, though, outrage would ensue.
4) They must get something sexual out of it: If you see a nursing child and it reminds you of pornography, you need to seek professional help. Immediately.
5) It’s not natural. Even animals wean their young after a month or two: Actually, animals nurse their young a lot longer than most people think. People often think of kittens and puppies that are often weaned between 6-8 weeks of age. What they don’t seem to realize is that they are forcibly weaned because they are removed from their mother. If permitted, they would continue to nurse for quite a while longer. This article gives an anthropologist’s explanation of the natural age of weaning.
Like I said, if you choose not to breastfeed past one day or 6 months, that is your prerogative. I won’t think you love your child any less. Don’t judge me for extended breastfeeding or insinuate that my choice to do so is rooted in incest. All of you working moms that pump, my hat is off to you! I don’t know how you do it, honestly. If you cloth diaper, I applaud you! I tried it and lasted a whole two weeks because laundry is my nemesis and I couldn’t reconcile that relationship with laundry to make cloth diapering work out.
The bottom line is, why can’t we be supportive of other mothers instead of looking for reasons to tear each other down. If you choose formula, I won’t think less of you. I won’t judge you because of your baby wearing stance. I won’t think you love your child any less based on whether or not you co-sleep. I won’t ever say another mother isn’t “MOM ENOUGH” because she made a different parenting choice. Don’t get me wrong, I am not saying I will never judge another mother. Being a parent obviously doesn’t give one Carte Blanche to do whatever they wish to their child. Abusing or neglecting your child is not a valid choice that anyone should respect, obviously. If you make the choice to knowingly and willfully harm a child, physically or psychologically, I will judge the fuck out of you.
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Stupid Things We Say
04 May 2012 58 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: annoying sayings, cliches, everything happens for a reason, funny, i'm rolling my eyes, jerks, Passive–aggressive behavior
- ‘No offense BUT…’: Prefacing an insult with a disclaimer does not negate the offense.
- ‘Everything happens for a reason’: No shit, Sherlock. We all know that every action results in an equal and opposite reaction, we all know that death occurs because we aren’t immortal but I’m most confused by how this became the default expression of condolences. Who decided this was a comforting thing to say in the wake of a tragedy or grief? An asshole, that’s who.
- ‘He worked like a dog’: I have four dogs. They spend the day eating, sleeping and licking their assholes. I’m not impressed.
- ‘I’m sorry BUT…”: This goes along with ‘no offense but…”. When you add the word “BUT”, the apology is completely negated. It’s a patronizing and passive aggressive attempt to disguise an effort to assign blame to the other person. If you’re sorry, apologize, if you’re not, don’t.
- ‘Easy as pie’: A pie is pretty fucking hard to make. I’m just sayin’.
What are some overused expressions that drive you nuts?
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Sh*t My Kid Says
26 Apr 2012 16 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: daughter, funny kids, Humour, kid jokes, mom, parent, Profanity, sarcasm
Some of the things that fly out of their mouths leave me speechless, other times they crack me up. My daughter has been the obvious protegé in the sarcasm department. She has always been funny in that unintentional way that most kids are funny but she has also had sarcasm nailed from a pretty early age. It makes me so proud. *sniffle*
My little smart ass has grown so much since this picture. She looks more like her father but takes after me in almost every other way.
When Number One was about 6 years old, we were driving home from a visit with my grandmother and it was raining so hard, there was barely any visibility. I, of course, was leaning forward with my face practically pressed into the windshield, trying to see past the hood of my car. My daughter, out of the blue, wanted to have a conversation.
Number One: At the beginning of ‘The Suite Life of Zach and Cody’, is that a real house or a fake house?
Me (dismissively): I’m watching the road. I don’t know.
Number One: Is it a real house or a fake house?
Me: I have no idea. I’ve never really watched it.
Number One (growing more and more annoyed): Mom! Just answer! Is it a real house or a fake house?
Me: Honey! I am trying to concentrate on driving! I don’t know!
Number One: IS IT REAL OR FAKE?
Me: If you just want an answer, then I will guess real. I haven’t watched the show but I will just give you an answer. It’s real. Okay? Now, I need to concentrate.
This was followed by about 20 seconds of very obvious silence, in which I could just sense that my daughter was pissed.
Number One (with her eyes lowered and monotone voice): Do you know what I want to do right now?
Me: What is that?
Number One: I want to go home, dress up like you and punch myself in the face.
I nearly lost it. When the rain cleared a few minutes later, I called my friend, laughing so hard I was almost crying, and told her about the conversation. She laughed and said, “I’m sure she is in big trouble”. I told her that, aside from being hilarious, I was pretty sure that she had me on a loophole, since she hadn’t actually threatened me. My daughter remained in her seat, glaring at me, increasingly annoyed by my amusement and my audacity to discuss it right in front of her.
Another of her more memorable statements, albeit unintentionally hilarious, was, while walking through the mall with my mother and sister, she asked, LOUDLY, “Why do men have nipples”, which almost sent me to my knees in laughter.
Yesterday, she tells me that one of her friends told her that the dictionary said that “the ‘B’ word” meant “a female dog” and she asked me if she was telling the truth. I told her that was correct. She looked at me, stunned and visibly excited, and asked why everyone says it is a bad word. I explained that it is the name of a female dog but it is also used as a curse word. She points to our dog, Zoey, and asks, “well, if I am talking about Zoey, I can use it”. Good try. That was a negative, though. Even if I had green lighted the appropriate usage, she would have stayed up at night thinking of different ways to work the word “bitch” into her daily vernacular. 
Sometimes she will say things that make my jaw drop and set off alarm bells in my head. Until I begin an interrogation and it is suddenly put in context and all becomes right in the world. While driving around recently, she starts talking about her friends. Kim does this and Joey does that. Then she says, “And Sadie, my demon lover…”.
Me: Your what?
Her: Demon lover.
Me: What is a demon lover?
Her: She loves demons. I mean, she isn’t goth or anything but she likes monsters and demons.
Me: OOOOOOOOHHHH!
The kids may drive me nuts but they can be hilarious at times. Also, the toilet humor starts young but boys just never seem to outgrow it, do they?
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My Rant on Disney Princesses
18 Apr 2012 94 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: Beauty and the Beast, Belle, Cinderella, Disney, Disney Princess, girls, Little Mermaid, parenting, Snow White
My friends laugh at me and give me hell about my take on Disney Princesses. I cringe at what sort of values they promote and the lessons that can be taken from them. I just really hate the whole princess franchise.
I have issues with Disney as a whole, like the absence of mothers in almost all of the films, but the Princesses are what really rub me the wrong way. 
Snow White: The entire story is centered around her beauty. Her stepmother, of the evil variety, of course, cares about nothing more than being beautiful. Since Snow White is her beauty rival, naturally, Snow White must die. She escapes and finds a messy cottage and gets right to cleaning it up. It makes sense. She’s a woman. She laid eyes on dirty floors and dirty dishes. Stranger’s home or not, she’s a woman and women love to clean! When she isn’t cleaning, she is dreaming of getting found by and married to a prince. When she eats the apple, of course, the only thing that can save her is a kiss from a prince. He falls in love the moment he sees her, kisses her, she sees him and loves him right back and they get married.
Cinderella: Again, there’s a wicked stepmother but this time there are also ugly step sisters that are cruel to Cinderella due to being so jealous of her beauty. Cinderella does nothing but clean and dream of being rescued by a man so she can get married. She meets the prince and they fall in love at first sight and dance all night. She loses her shoe when he leaves and even though he says she is the love of his life and he spent the whole night dancing with her, he wouldn’t be able to recognize her and, therefore, must try the shoe on every girl in the kingdom until he finds her foot. She tries on the shoe and Cinderella finally gets to be happy because she gets married.
The Little Mermaid: Ariel is always late and inconsiderate of her family and her commitments. She is a hoarder. She sees a hot guy on a boat and decides she must meet him and marry him. When her father grounds her, she reacts like any reasonable 16-year-old and runs away. She asks the sea witch for an extreme makeover because she knows stranger man won’t find her fins sexy, she must change herself to appeal to him. Ursula wants her voice in return for legs and tells her that men don’t like women that talk too much and the girl who holds her tongue will get her man and that she just needs to use her sexuality. He falls in love with her and everything works out perfect because they get married.
Beauty and the Beast: Finally! A princess that seems to be intellectual and independent and scoffs at the idea that marriage is a woman’s ultimate goal. When she offers herself as a prisoner, in place of her father, at the Beast’s castle she meets his enchanted staff that are all terrified of the Beast. Belle and the enchanted staff are subjected to loud and violent outbursts by the Beast but, even when he gives Belle her freedom, she doesn’t leave. We learn that, if a man is abusive to you, just try to be nicer because, if you love him enough, he will change and become nice too. 
I know what you will say! “They are kids movies”, “Children won’t get that”, “They are just stories” and blah, blah, blah. They are children. Whether you realize it or not, children are very susceptible to the power of suggestion. I’m not saying that letting your children watch this dribble will have devastating consequences. It’s not. Personally, I just don’t like the idea of even hinting that marriage is such a lofty goal for girls. I want a princess who graduates from college and runs for office and has a husband who is a stay at home dad. I’d like there to be more emphasis on her intelligence than her beauty. Give me that!
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A Memo to Parents
10 Apr 2012 38 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: Alex Russo, Hannah Montana, Miley Cyrus, parent, Perez Hilton, role models
I saw a news story the other day about some parents that were petitioning to have an ice cream stand banned from the public park they frequented with their children. Their reason, apparently, is that ice cream isn’t healthy and can lead to childhood obesity. No argument here. The glaring problem to me is that, to these parents, the practical solution to mitigating such risks for their children involves navigating legal channels to have this ice cream entrepreneur banished from the park, as opposed to—oh, I don’t know—telling their child, “NO”. Personally, if my child were to ask for ice cream at the park and I didn’t feel he/she needed an ice cream, I would just say, “no”. That’s it. Sure, there might be a little pleading that occurs, maybe some bargaining, Number Three might even shed a few tears. They’ll get over it. I swear. There is no need for legal action to replace basic parenting. It’s like demanding that toys be banned from Target because your child asked you for Legos.
Let me give some advice: PARENT YOUR CHILDREN, PEOPLE! Your precious angel is going to survive hearing the word, “no” from time to time. Say it with me: “I’m the parent. My child is not the boss of me. I am the boss of him/her. I am the adult.”
It is the same thing with celebrities. My daughter used to be a HUGE Hannah Montana fan. She sang all of her songs, had a costume, wore her clothing line and never missed the show or her movies. Then parents started making a buzz and a stink about Miley Cyrus, the actress that played Hannah Montana. They didn’t approve of her being photographed in public wearing provocative clothing. Photos of her partying were leaked. Parents were indignant and seemed to think Disney should have her flogged because, to them, she was not being a positive role model to Hannah Montana fans. I mean, it begs the question, why the fuck are you letting your 5-11 year old read Perez Hilton and Star magazine? Put some parental controls on your computer. As long as Hannah Montana isn’t posting panties pics on the web and smoking Salvia in her secret closet, parents should not be concerned with the antics of Miley Cyrus off camera—at least, not as a relevant issue to their young daughters. Parent your own children! It is not the responsibility of celebrities to teach your child values. It is yours. If Selena Gomez wants to make a sex tape and snort coke, that’s her prerogative. I won’t get my parent panties in a bunch as long as character, Alex Russo, doesn’t start snorting adderall and prostituting to fund her wizard school tuition. 
At the end of the day, it’s all pretty easy. Don’t look to celebrities to be role models for your children. You’re the parent! Your goal should be that they look to you as their role model. If your child tells you that she wants to make a sex tape so she can be like Paris Hilton and you need someone to blame, look in the mirror. If you are concerned that a certain character, celebrity or athlete could negatively influence your child, it is your job, as the parent, to eliminate or, at least, mitigate the influence. Step up to the plate. I may think Vanessa Hudgens is a total dumbass for having nude cell phone pictures leaked to the public on more than one occasion but Vanessa Hudgens didn’t squeeze any of these kids out of the vagina she loves to photograph. Her personal life can only be a relevant influence on my children if I am asleep at the wheel.
Celebrities and athletes are not obligated to you or your children. If you have deferred to Miley Cyrus, Michael Vick or Rhianna and Chris Brown to instill morals and values in your child, you, the parent, are the only person responsible when or if they emulate their value systems and behaviors. Celebrities are far better to be used as cautionary tales, not role models. 
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The Virgin Valuation
26 Mar 2012 72 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: dating, Father, marriage, purity ball, Virginity
You like that title? I went all “Big Bang Theory” on that shit. They should hire me as their title writer. I’d be awesome. Moving on…
I saw an article recently, announcing that the 2012 Purity Ball was in the works and couldn’t wait to reserve a spot for my husband and daughter! She will be wearing a beautiful ball gown and we will adorn her hair with pretty flowers and her father will dress in a tuxedo and they will go and dance together until the ceremony begins. Then my daughter will look her daddy in the eyes and pledge her virginity to him until marriage and then her father will vow to defend and protect her virginity to the death or until she is married. I know some people think it is a bit strange but, don’t worry, we are going to go to an attorney, after the verbal agreement, to get documented legal ownership of her hymen, of course. We aren’t idiots! Since she is just a girl, she can’t be trusted with making choices for herself, now or in the future. As a father it is his job to ensure that her future husband gets first dibs on our little girl. Until then, her daddy is going to be hyper vigilant to keep her hymen intact!
Okay, seriously, am I the only one that finds the purity ball scenario beyond fucking weird? Girls, starting in preschool, being dressed up for a date with their daddies, where they will vow to remain “pure” until marriage and their daddies will assume the role of gatekeeper of his daughter’s vagina. First of all, I take issue with “pure” being a euphemism for virginity. Pure is defined as “free from contamination”, “clean”, “untainted”. A girl’s value is not inside her vagina, precariously contained only by the hymen, like a tupperware lid.
If you teach your daughter that her virginity is a “gift” for a future husband, you are inadvertently teaching your daughter to objectify herself. I, for one, don’t want my daughter to think that the most relevant contribution that she can make to her future husband lies between her legs. I also don’t want my daughter to think of sex as something that will render her “tainted”, “impure” or “damaged goods”. In that same vein, I don’t want my sons to objectify girls or view them as conquests. I don’t want any of my children qualifying the worth of themselves or others on the basis of a sexual history. I’m going to try the road less traveled and try to instill confidence and self worth in my children and teach them to respect themselves and their bodies. I don’t want my sons having indiscriminate sex any more than my daughter. You just don’t see me organizing a party that would culminate in my sons pledging his penis and sperm to me until he meets a girl I decide can have a run at him.
On a related note, have you seen this shirt:
As a mother to three sons, I just don’t find this train of thought all that amusing. I know it is tongue in cheek but I also know that a lot of parents still do think it is funny and/or necessary to do things like hold or clean a gun when meeting their daughter’s date. The threat is clear, whether through subtle or direct means that, “if you touch my little girl, I’m coming for you.” I’ll just say, if a parent of one of my sons’ future dates were to make threats of violence or brandish a gun to imply a threat for no other reason than he was picking her up for a date, there would be a problem. If your daughter were to come to my home to go out with my son and I pulled out a gun and told her to keep her hands off of my precious little boy, what would you think?
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If Anyone Asks, I’m A Good Mom
22 Mar 2012 41 Comments
I can only imagine what TV teaches my kids, including commercials. Who comes up with this shit? I would love to sit down with whatever marketing geniuses come up with these commercial concepts and ask them one thing:
“What the fuck?”
Every paper towel commercial, for instance: The mother characters never hesitate to hand their toddler a large cup, filled to the rim with milk or juice and then they have the audacity to look surprised when it spills. Mom shrugs and laughs as she grabs a paper towel and, with one swipe, wipes up the spill with a smile and an unaffected gaze and then the dumb bitch hands the child a refill. Hey Lady! Buy a clue! Give that child a sippy cup or, at minimum, why don’ t you consider NOT filling it up all the way. On a side note, it is laughable how spills in commercials almost always result in one manageable and easy to clean up puddle.
The ones that really get me are the commercial moms that give their toddlers and preschoolers free rein in the kitchen. They walk in to find their child covered in flour and standing in a mine field of cracked eggs, puddles of milk and any other variety of things you would find in a pantry or refrigerator strewn about the room. The mother walks in, softly gasps as she surveys the destruction and then she smiles and laughs adoringly as she grabs a couple of paper towels or disinfectant wipes, which we are apparently supposed to believe is all she needed to clean the entire fucking mess, as well as her child. They throw the paper towel away together and then they embrace and laugh. It’s the same scenario for every cleaning product. Have these jackasses who came up with this advertising concept ever met an actual parent? Rather, have they met one who isn’t on a laundry list of anti-psychotics? This marketing strategy would be better suited for use by pharmaceutical companies. Replay the exact same scene, except, rather than paper towels, show the mother grabbing a couple of pills. Pan the camera back to the logo, “Momnesta”. Look, if I walked into the kitchen and saw even a fraction of that destruction, I would lose my damn mind. Seriously. Heads would fucking roll. The neighbors would probably hear me gasp, then the rant would begin, peppered with statements like “this is why we can’t have nice things” and “I’m just a glorified maid” and “why do I bother cleaning up”. If the magic box showed me an advertisement for happy pills that would make my childrens’ path of destruction tolerable, much less adorable, I would buy the fuck out of those pills. I would be the first in line. In the meantime, I will have to suck it up and continue responsible monitoring and supervision of my children until that day comes —but if I got my hands on that pill, I would stock up on paper towels and take a damn nap! 
Who remembers the old commercial where the mother and daughter are walking on a beach and the daughter asks the mother, “Mom, do you ever feel–not so fresh”? The mother assures her that it is a problem all women are faced with and, in a nutshell, tells her that douching is the solution. Look, if your daughter comes to you and expresses concern that her vag is getting funky, she doesn’t need to douche, she needs to take a fucking shower. Give her that advice, mmmkay. A little more insight: “feminine wash” is a gimmick. It is the regular ol’ soap with a jacked up price tag because these companies have convinced women that we need to disinfect our squish mitten with magic vagina soap or suffer total humiliation. 
1) If your child is out of sight and is being quiet, something is getting fucked up.
2) If your south pole starts to smell, BATHE!
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As If I’d Pay Him
15 Mar 2012 63 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: Babysitting, Child, dads don't babysit, Father, parent
Why do so many people think that the paternal obligation and responsibility in parenting begins and ends with ejaculation? I am home day in and day out, managing the lives of four children. If you ask anyone, I am “just a stay at home mom”. As far as most are concerned, I have nothing but time since I don’t work or anything. Sure, I have four kids but I just sit at home with my thumb up my ass all day, every day. If, however, I venture outside of these four walls and leave my children at home with my husband, you know–their father–the whole world says he is—-wait for it—- babysitting.
“Oh! Is your husband babysitting”?
“You’re so lucky. My husband never babysits”.
“That is so awesome that their daddy is babysitting them so you can get out”.
What the fuck is that shit? Look, a babysitter doesn’t contribute sperm to his charges. If my husband is home with the kids, he isn’t babysitting, he is PARENTING. When I cook dinner, no one says, “oh, I didn’t know you became a chef”. You think when I drive my litter around, anyone says, “when did you become a chauffeur”? I can promise you, no one has ever congratulated my husband on getting me to BABYSIT our kids. When I stay home with the kids, I am just doing my “job” as a mother. When he stays home with the kids, people want to nominate him for sainthood and seem to think I’m supposed to run home and pay him in blowjobs. .
Husband, of course, finds it hysterical when someone refers to him “babysitting”. Mostly because he knows it makes me want to punch puppies. Fortunately, he doesn’t expect special treatment for just being a great dad. Of course, if he rinses off a plate, he seems to think I am supposed to strap on my knee pads as I arrange a goddamned ticker tape parade but that is a different blog.
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My Calgon is Broken
05 Mar 2012 56 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: baby, bubble baths, children, husband, mother, motherhood, reasons to drink wine
I have taken dozens of bubble baths over the last couple of weeks and when I open my eyes I am still sitting in my tub in my fucking bathroom. Want to know what else is in that bathroom when I open my eyes? A bunch of little people, staring me down, with questions or demands.
“What are you doing?”
“Can I take a bath?”
“Can I play on the computer?”
“Can I watch TV?”
“Will I have a big butt like you one day?”
“Your wine shakes all over when you cry.”
I can barely remember what it feels like to go to the bathroom without a captive audience. 
My children can be completely occupied but they will drop everything and magically appear the moment I walk into the bathroom. They can be in a different room! With the door closed! They will appear out of thin air to demand snacks or kick my self esteem down a couple more pegs. I had figured out when Number One was a newborn that the sound of me relaxing caused children to go batshit crazy. It didn’t take me much longer to discover that children also have a psychic link to a mother’s bladder that compels them to her side anytime it is being emptied.
Number Four is adorable–light of my life and all that jazz. He has, so far, been the easiest baby of all four. It is amazing what he can sleep through, too. Number Three can raise hell, all four dogs can be barking at the suspicious presence of oxygen in the room, the television blaring, the vacuum running—none of it disturbs his slumber. Things that will wake my little angel from a deep sleep: my hand turning the bathroom doorknob, me lifting food to my mouth and the sound of me gently laying my head on a pillow. I shit you not. He will, however permit me to lay down and get some rest, so long as he is allowed to sleep at the breastaurant.. I have agreed to his terms.
As much as I love Husband, I have fantasized about the part time privacy I would acquire through divorce. Ahhhh, a girl can dream.
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I’z Gonna Be A Lady Someday, Though I Didn’t Know When or How
29 Feb 2012 53 Comments
in Parenting and Random Shit Tags: be a lady, classy, funny, lady drunk, Wine glass
Recently, I have been researching and working hard on reforming myself and becoming a bona fide lady. I think I am making major progress! Prior to learning how to look and act like a lady, I would wake up and put on sweats or cotton gym shorts and a t-shirt to prepare for a day spent inside the house, taking care of my litter of children. Now, however, I wake up, do my hair and make-up and put on a nice dress, heels and pearls. Okay, so that is an exaggeration. I just put on my dressy (i.e. not stained or ripped) yoga pants and tank top. If I am leaving the house, especially if I am dropping by the kid’s school, I will put on my dry weave coordinating workout ensemble. See, the latest in stay-at-home mom/lady fashion is to always look like you are on your way to workout, even if you have no intention of ever breaking a sweat.
I have been speaking very softly, like a lady speaks. I try not to think too hard, unless it is about what kind of sandwich I should make, and I don’t do anymore of that opinion having. I am coming to understand that if I want men to say they are interested in my brain, I need to nickname my vagina, “brain”. I’ve also been watching my language, in order to sound more ladylike. For instance, I don’t say I “fuck” my husband anymore. Now, I “make fuck” to my husband. Like a lady.
Apparently, a lady does not tell others when doing her kegels. With this knowledge, I have stopped announcing to anyone within a 20 yard radius that I am vagi-cizing. 
When I drink, like a lady, I drink wine. That way, when I get totally drunk, I am “lady drunk”, which is classy. I mean, to be fair, just holding a wine glass makes you appear 30% less drunk than holding nothing or holding any other drink container. That is just a scientific fact. 
It seems, being a lady requires various cocktails of prescription pills, which I do not yet possess. That is on my “how to become a lady” to do list.
I am kicking ass—I mean, rear end–on the path to ladyhood. I am making lady lessons my bitch—I mean, my female dog. Now, I am going to put on a bra (because, if you can believe this shit–I mean, mess– ladies wear bras all the time!) and get ready to get lady drunk later. *curtsy*
