Something for me… 

I have wanted to do something for myself for years. Now now, don’t go getting all perverse and think I have some long running desire to pleasure myself.. I have a sex-on-a-stick husband to do that for me. You bunch of disgustingtons.

Moving on..

I have two college degrees. I hate both of them. I have long desired to go back to school and do something that sets my soul on fire. Because at the end of the day, if your soul isn’t ablaze, are you really living?

I have toyed with many many career options; some fun, some practical, some would have required I pack my family up and move 4 hours away (let me tell you, that was one of the most appealing aspects of that particular schooling). But I never really pulled the trigger on any of them. Some because of cost, some because of practicality, some because I just plain and simple feel too old to do a long term program. I am not “old” but I sure as shit am no longer a spring chicken (and thank hell for that, chickens are fucking ugly!)

I had one program picked out, had the funding all figured out, figured out scheduling for practicums and all that nonsense, and then less than two weeks later, I found myself pregnant with my youngest son. I find that more often than not, if I plan something for myself, I am met with some form of push-back from the universe, or my children. Or some heinous combination of both.

My kids are great. Lets just get that out of the way now, so I don’t get any assbags climbing up my nose because I didn’t praise them enough or properly. BUT! That being said, they are sometimes real cock-blocks (so to say, and sometimes actually literally). It is some universal bullshit blowback that when a mom decides to be something other than just a “mom” something explodes in her regular routine and throws a proverbial wrench into her plans. This can’t possibly only happen to me.. and if it does, fuck you, universe!

I realize that my life exists mostly in “murphys law” (hell, I once wrote a book and I even named that thing “In the life of Murphy”… no, it’s never been published… sure I have thought about it, dreamed about it, but again, never pulled the trigger…) But I think after this many decades of doing shit only for others, it was time to do something for me.

So, two days ago, I pulled the trigger. Application sent. Now we wait. Am I worried that I will get in? No. The prerequisites are so basic, I could have been accepted even if I had done high school like my husband did (haha sorry honey!) I wanted to start in September, because lets face it, after this many years of waiting, I didn’t want to wait for another 6 months. But alas, because of some plans we already have made for September, and the fact that I am a “ne-‘er do well” and can not acquire a student loan, I settled for January. And come hell or high water, barring any more children coming down with some form of life-threatening illness (thanks middle child…) I WILL be starting on January 8th… possibly the oldest college student known to man. Yes, I realize that is a massive exaggeration, but fuck do I feel old (thanks to the aforementioned middle child and his life threatening illness, and the fact that I actually am old…)

But this is for me. All for me. We don’t “need” the money. I don’t “need” to work. But I am fucking sick of being mom and wife, and little more. My kids will all be in school full time in the fall, and while I know my job with them will never technically end (right, mom? *wink wink*) I feel like their need for my undivided attention is beginning to dwindle. And doing school online is good – I will still be home for my middles busted ass pancreas, to take my oldest to volleyball and school dances, and to go to my youngests show and tell and special days. Oh yeah, and I will still get to spend time with my husband during the day, because his schedule only takes him away from us on Friday, Saturday and Sunday nights… yes, it is badass, I agree! So, I will get to be me, better me, and still be what everyone else needs me to be, too. And this will give me more excuses to bat my eyes and ask my husband to pick up a bit more slack around the house, and anything that keeps me from having to cook every meal is absolutely fantastic! Cuz really, fuck cooking. Guess my hubby is gonna have to learn how to cook keto, hahaha!

So anyways, this is just a very long-winded way to share my pseudo exciting news. And now you know. Carry on……

Cosmic bullshit or just a bad week?

You have heard the saying “when things start to go right is when everything will go wrong”.. or something like that – I just paraphrased. Well, welcome to my current predicament.

For years, I have trucked along, perfectly content with the complacency that my life had become. It was not boring, but it was no longer absolute chaos – and I was happy with that.

But lately, I have decided to two-fist some bulls balls and take control, and point my life in an entirely new direction. I started reading more again, I started working on my insides, I started working out every day, I started eating better again, I started focusing on the relationships I care deeply about, I started ignoring the shit and the toxic people, I decided to remove things from my life that don’t bring me joy (except my skinny clothes – they bum me out now, but one day I hope to fit in them again, which will then bring me joy), I found a group of women who are on the same path as me and lift me up on a daily basis, I started focusing my entire attention on my kids when they are around, I started digging deep with my kids to make sure they know at their core that they are total superstars, I ordered my sons CGM (continuous glucose monitor) which is going to give all of us a lot more freedom and peace of mind, I started focusing on my husband and what made me fall in love with him in the first place, I started working to make my marriage as strong as possible (it has never been weak or shaky, but I want it to be stronger than ever), I started looking into possible schooling for me, I started figuring out what I want to do with my life (for real, I feel like I am in grade 11 and trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.. it is DAUNTING!)… basically, to summate, I started fixing me and gluing back together the busted shards that had previously been left laying on the floor.

However, what is lining up with all of this self-improvement? Oh right, shit and chaos. I am kicking the couch and coffee table legs every time I walk by, I am dropping and spilling things, I am forgetting appointments, I am crying a lot, I am finding myself insanely impatient with my kids, I am letting bullshit from 7-10 years ago seep into my present and wreak havoc, I am losing things, I am having insane dreams that are making me feel like I haven’t slept, I am sore, I kinked my neck, I am having stomach issues, I am just all around feeling like a worthless piece of crap that isn’t worthy of anything. I am letting every poisonous bullshit garbage thing anyone has ever said to me settle in my brain and take up permanent residence. It is not fun.

So am I just having a bad week? Or is the universe shitting on my parade, like some bastard vengeful pigeon, because I am finally on the right path. I am finally done with all of the drama and bullshit and hurt and pain and anger and vengeance… is it a bad day? Or is it the start of a great life?

I have no fucking idea! I have a lot of hurt in my past. I have been damaged to the point of pieces of me being obliterated and lost forever. I know I am not perfect. I know I will always be broken. I know that I will always have trust issues and I know that there will always be people I never quite fully let (back) in. And that is okay. That is just who I am. But I am also loving and caring and kind and compassionate and thoughtful and smart and funny and strong and feisty and stubborn and generous and (somewhat) forgiving. So maybe focusing on all of the good instead of letting the past bad hurt me is creating some ruffles in the universe. Maybe I finally blasted my way off of the path I didn’t want to be on, and am finally on the one that I always hoped I would find.

Whatever is happening, I am just gonna keep pushing. I am not going to let some minor setbacks in my life alter where I know I want to go. And if there are people in my life who enjoyed the chaos more, and don’t think I can actually pull this shit off… may I introduce to you the door. Step out and close it behind you. Because I am hard enough on myself. I don’t need any more outside help with that. I am not here to entertain people with my life. I am over that shit. It is behind me, and the spectators should be, too. There are a few people who come to mind while talking about this.. and they played a very big part in my “worthless” campaign over the last few days. Those people are as good as dead to me now. I will still smile and be polite, but they are 100% behind me and on the other side of my wall now. And in my life, there is exactly one person who ever came back after being shunned – and I married him. I assure you no one else will ever make that sort of a comeback.

So. Once again… bad day or a cosmic shitfest? I don’t know. But I intend on finding out. But in the meantime, if I could just stop kicking shit, that would be great. My toes are so sore.

It’s raining..

And there is snow in the forecast. Not in the far-off forecast, like one would hope, but in the immediate future.

I don’t have shoes. I mean, I have shoes, I am not a hobbit. But my shoes are 6 years old and make my toes feel like a steamroller has run them over and then dragged them over jagged rocks. It isn’t pleasant. I am not a big shoe buyer. I don’t like buying shit for myself (unless it is hoodies, but shut your mouth, they’re an investment.. at least that’s what I tell myself, as many/most of them have yet to ever see the light of day.. again, shut your mouth)

I buy flip flops every spring. Love flip flops. I would wear them all year long if I could, which leads me to believe I was supposed to live on a warmer piece of this earth than I do. But I digress – northern Alberta has its perks. Give me a second and I am sure I can come up with something… but I’ve strayed.

Shoes. I have been putting off buying my shoes, which according to crap I have been seeing on IG and FB, apparently I chose a trendy shoe without even realizing it. Go me. Ahead of the trends. But since I haven’t bought them yet (been putting it off for months) now I will just appear to be another lemming. Sigh. And now my feet will be frozen, and likely filthy, due to the impending snow shit and the lack of coverage I have for my freshly pedicured feet.

So when someone says “don’t put off til tomorrow what you can do today” heed it! Your feet will thank you.

Manolo vs Nike…..

I have been on quite the Sex and the City binge the last few weeks. I will admit, it is a guilty indulgence of mine. There are a couple series that I will watch – start to finish – SATC and Friends top the list. And in a way, both of these shows apply to this post. And, ironically, both take place in New York, which is a place I have always always wanted to visit. But that little tidbit has nothing to do with anything but a snipit of me. I digress… and here we go…

Both tv shows are filled with beautiful people experiencing normal everyday situations (if normal everyday situations include insane apartments, overpriced shoes and more sex than most people have in their entire life).

They’re filled with Manolo Blahnik, Ralph Lauren, Gucci and Prada. Sex in public bathrooms, blow jobs in taxis, everyone is beautiful and no one seems to ever work. A wonderful life that would be, if it were true for everyone!

The women in SATC have amazing clothes, amazing jobs, amazing apartments, and their shoes… OMG! I will be the first to admit, I am not big on shoes. I own 1 pair of sneakers, 1 pair of runners and 3 pairs of flip flops. PERIOD. That is honestly it. The most expensive shoes I own are my Nikes – and while I do not have a problem with that, sometimes I wish that I were a little different. I would love to have a little stash of great clothes, amazing shoes, expensive lingerie.. But that just isn’t me. If I don’t have on a hoodie and jeans, I feel like an impostor in my own life! I have had the same sort of wardrobe for years and years.. It is who I am. I am a jeans and hoodie kind of girl. Whether I am wearing flip flops or sneakers is all dependent on the weather.

I enjoy my jeans and my hoodies, but I have started propping my closet up with some sweaters… trying to fancy it up. Seriously. Sweaters are fancy. Oh jennie… that is lame. So I suppose for the time being, I will just watch these shows and lust after the amazing stuff they wear on their bodies and their feet.. cuz let’s be serious, if I wore that shit, my ankles would shatter.

And I don’t care who you are, shattered ankles fit into Nikes better than Manolo’s. Just saying….

 

Vulnerable… 

Is it worth it to be vulnerable? To let your walls down and let someone in? To allow the opportunity for total heart shattering annihilation? I guess it is a different answer for everyone. 

Some will say “yes. Because feeling and giving love is the single greatest gift you’re ever given”. 

Some will say “it is better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all”. 

Some will say “self preservation is where it’s at”. 

Some will say “fuck no. Never love, never hurt”. 

I honestly can’t say which group I fall into. 

I’m a big pusher. I push people, especially when I sense that I’m about to ache. I don’t tend to allow people in enough to hurt me. I’m very much into self preservation. Guard your heart. Yes sir. 

And yet I let someone in farther than I’ve ever let anyone before. And it happened fast. It was just supposed to be some fun to have in a fragile time in my life. It was never supposed to turn into a kid, marriage and life. Yet, here we are. Heart all sorts of unguarded and wondering how I ever lived without this person beside me. 

That’s not to say I’m not still guarded in some aspect. Not still unsure. Not still terrified. Not still pushing. Is it healthy? Maybe not. But maybe it’s what I have to do. 

I worry on a daily basis that he will see through the cracks, I’ll be exposed, and he will bail. Not because he’s a piece of shit and wouldn’t fight. But because I have such low self worth, that I almost judge him for choosing me in the first place. It’s not on him. It’s 100% me.. As cliché as it is, it’s not him, it’s me. 

Maybe it will go away one day, but I doubt it. I don’t think I will ever feel valuable or worthy (worthy of what you may ask?Sky’s the limit as far as examples are concerned)

After years and years and years (let’s just call it an even 30) of belittling, cutting down, devaluing, insulting, hurting, ignoring, name calling, and all sorts of other lovely happenings.. I’m a bit bruised. Or to be completely honest, it broke me. Bad. How can you put back the pieces when lots of them were obliterated and no longer exist?

I’ve never been confident. I’ve never really felt like “I’m not half bad”. And I’ve always wondered why anyone would choose me when there’s 7 billion people in the world. 

So because of that, and numerous other damaged mentalities, I just don’t really make myself vulnerable. I lock down the one thing that should be so easy for me to hand over to someone. Especially easy to hand to someone who’s vowed to love me forever. So why can’t I? 

Why can’t I believe when he, or someone else, says they love me? Why can’t I believe when I’m told I’m special? Why can’t I believe when someone tells me I’m important? Why can’t I believe when I’m told I’m missed? Why can’t I believe when I’m told I’m valued? 

Have I locked my heart up so tightly that I can’t even allow myself to believe those who are closest to me? The precious few I’ve actually allowed in? Or have I really ever actually allowed them in? 

I don’t like being vulnerable. I despise crying, and do it as little as is necessary, and will not cry in front of people if at all avoidable. I am not a big hugger, and only do it to few people (my kids obviously excluded from this group, because I will always hug them!) I don’t like talking about my feelings; instead, I bottle them up until I forget, and then they come screaming out at some unpredictable moment (much better.. Or something) 

I push. I guard. I have deep seeded trust issues. Honestly, if someone feels they have no value, can they ever truly be vulnerable? I honestly don’t think so. So where does that leave me? 

Butterflies.. 

I’ve been with my husband for 6 years. We both came from pretty heinous relationships that left us battered and bruised in our own unique and awful ways. He bounced back a lot quicker than me. The better part of a decade with him, and I still doubt. Doubt. All the doubt. All. The. Time. 

I don’t doubt him. He’s solid. He’s adorable. He’s funny. He’s smart. He’s charming. He can get pretty much anything he wants. 

Then there’s me. Why. Why me. I’m a broken taped-up mess of a shell of a human. I am still attempting to put back together the pieces of my shattered existence. Yet he claims I give him butterflies. 

Maybe before. I was more carefree, even in spite of the hell my life had become. I smiled. I laughed. I brushed it off and carried on. I was cute and spunky and held my shit together with the finest bandaids a girl could find. 

Not now. I feel like I break more with each passing year. I’m repugnant in comparison. I am anxious and worry, I don’t sleep, I am in constant fear of something going wrong, I express my concerns (not complain, I don’t do that). I have a medial issue that has made me a tired, emotional, anxious, dry skinned, iron deficient blob. How fucking hot. And score for him. 

Before, it used to be all mushy phone calls, Cologne sprayed tshirts to sleep in when he is gone, hundreds of texts just to say I love you, the insane need to talk and hear my voice, “kiss me now” moments, stolen looks, secret tongue meanings (don’t be gross) and hundreds of other things that made us, us. 

And now we are partners in this life business. Tv is watched in bed with a quick “good night” thrown in without taking an eye off the screen, texts are shorter and not fun, I love you’s are in short supply (and more often than not, I feel are just something to say out of routine), kisses are next to non-existent, conversations revolve around work and kids and groceries and bills…. 

So what happens when the butterflies die? When the thing that made us, us, becomes nothing but a distant memory and something that requires too much work with all the other shit we have going on? What happens when the flitty tummy feelings that made this feel special and exciting just turns to a regular complacency and routine? 

We have a lot going on, I’m not going to lie… But I’m not old and dead yet.. I don’t want to give up on the butterflies. One, because it’s the happiest I’ve ever been. And two, because once they’re gone, the facade will erase and all that will remain is my broken shell. And who the hell wants that? 

Fucking butterflies. 

Like whores…

  

My friend lives far away, so the better part of our friendship has taken place via some form of technology, whether it be texting, phone calls, emails, ridiculous facebook messages, etc. During one of our conversations the other day, this topic came up, and I just had the sudden urge to say something about it… but then I got busy doing something else, and am only remembering to do it now. I am a mom of three, so sue me for getting preoccupied.. at least I remember to shower on a regular basis.

Okay… so as the title states, this is about “like whores”. Although, the “whores” are the ones who are giving it away, and what I am referring to are the ones who are in need of likes… so perhaps something more appropriate would be “like johns”.. although, that just doesn’t have the same ring to it. So bare with me through this inaccurately titled trollop…

We live in a world where social media now runs every aspect of our existence. It accounts for a staggering amount of our communication with other people. While I find this absolutely intriguing, a part of me also misses picking up the phone or showing up on someones step without them asking why you didn’t text first. The mystery is gone – the mystery of life, who you’ll meet, where you’ve been… all of it. It’s gone, because everything you need to know about someone is plastered all over social media.

And it is with that plastering where I find my topic. I was in this deep conversation with someone who, like me, isn’t really into filling our pages with our every move (seriously people, who effing cares where you walked today, or what you ate last night… my god!) Sure, I may post pics of my kids, or ridiculous things they say, but I assure you, no one but me knows what I have done today or what color my underwear are. I am a proud mom and that is pretty much all I bother to post about, so shut it. My big issue are the people who post every move, every sight, every musing, every conversation, every step, every sneeze, every meal… on facebook (or other platforms) and then get bent out of shape when they don’t have likes and comments on every single picture or post.

Get a grip on reality, people! Not everyone sits on their phones/computers/tablets and waits, with bated breath, to see just what you are up to. Some things can happen without it going on a wall of some sort. And just because people don’t like it, doesn’t mean it didn’t happen! It doesn’t take away any of its legitimacy.. why can’t people just be content with existing? Why must so many demand an audience and external gratification!?

Sure, there are situations where there is a biological obligation to like and/or comment on photos/posts.. I get it. And I fully believe that family should support family, especially when it involves kids or exciting life moments. BUT! As for the rest of the world? Give it a break, and stop expecting hundreds of likes and comments when you post a photo of the grass, or a cloud, or a damned tree.. cuz you know what? I can look out my window and see grass, a cloud and a tree.. and I am not going to run outside and thank the earth for providing it to me! Yes, I am grateful, but if that is all I did, there would be no time for anything else.

It is like that scene in Vacation where Christina Applegate’s character is being berated for not liking and commenting on every picture her friend had posted. That kind of expectations are unreasonable and totally exhausting!! And I told my friend about that scene, and she started snorting because it reminded her of exactly who she had mentioned in the first place. How can people make others feel bad for not participating in every moment of their lives? It just feels unrealistic to be expected to spend hours of your life going over hours of other peoples lives. Just live your life and be happy with the outcome!

I guess there are just always going to be people who look outwardly for gratification, love and happiness. And nowadays, it seems like it has become a popularity contest on every platform that is available to us. And that sickens me. Look inwardly for your happiness, because if you base it on everyone else and their opinion of you, or the amount of likes you get, you are never going to find it. Happiness is not as fleeting as a like on a photo… happiness is within, and deserves as much effort as you give your social media. Work on you. And stop giving a shit who approves of your every move, or your photo of the grass.. Seriously dude, it’s just fucking grass.

In or out?

I have spent a few days pondering this thought, after a very intense talk with a friend. This girl I know, who is important to me, asked the question “what do you do when your relationship with someone is swaying like a pendulum?” And it got me thinking… What do you do?

This particular conversation was based on platonic relationships, not partners. (just so we are clear, this isn’t a “divorce or not” post) And it made me think! … when someone is in your life, then not, then back, then not.. what do you do?

It has to be hard to keep your heart open for long periods of time, not knowing if the next day it will be broken again, or if it will be another week or month, or even year. I know that friendships ebb and flow, and people get busy and all that nonsense, but that is not what this is about. This is about people who come into your life, and then end up hurting you, leaving, and then come back and act like absolutely nothing is wrong… never an apology, never an explanation, nothing. Just poof, gone… poof, back.

This particular girl was dealing with some pretty shitty individuals who were taking her for granted, mistreating her, abusing her kindness and generally making her feel like crap. I can imagine that sort of treatment would make anyone sad! But when it is people you have learned to depend on, and care for, it must hurt even more. And what makes it worse is that it is people who should NEVER behave this way.. people who are so close, they are like family.. people who know her whole life story, and have huge parts in certain parts of it.

Betraying someones trust is brutal heinous, but to do it to someone who put so much trust and faith in you? Ouch. I really don’t have a lot of nice things to say about anyone who abuses someones trust like that, or anyone who betrays someone they’re supposed to be there for.

Makes me think about that picture… “if you want to come in my life, the door is open. You want to get out of my life, the door is open. Just one request, don’t stand in the door, you’re blocking the traffic”

That is so true! If you don’t intend on being in someones life, like actually IN their life, leave them be. Don’t stand in the doorway, taking up space, and possibly blocking the path of someone who wants to be there. Move your ass and move on.

I feel bad for my friend. The issues she is having make my heart hurt. Nobody should ever question trust in someone who is supposed to be completely trustworthy and dependable. She found out that there has been some backstabbing, some sneaking around with people who have no right to know about her life, some secret spilling to unsavory people who don’t need to know those secrets, some plotting and planning and conniving with other people who have hurt her, some shit talking, some bashing, some name calling… and yet these people still smile to her face and act like everything is all good. That almost strikes me as the worst betrayal.. That is like some “wolf in sheeps clothing” kinda shit… And that is why she asked my opinion. Sometimes it is hard to see the forest for the trees when you are too deep in it… and in this case, hard to see which are sheep, which are wolves, and which are the cross-dressers.

Honestly, with “friends” like that, you genuinely don’t need enemies! So she is doing her best to distance herself, but as she said “there is just so much history, it is making it hard to walk away”. I don’t think that putting in any amount of time gives anyone the right to act like total douchecanoes. Time passing is just something that happens. It doesn’t mean that there needs to be a code of solidarity, regardless of the insane level of shit-hole treatment. (and this is why divorce lawyers are so rich.. but that is for a different post.. haha)

I say, close the door, and eventually someone will be at the door, knocking to come in, because they want to be there, and it will erase some of the pain from the people who are no longer welcome at that doorway. And make sure that your heart has a door that locks, and rid yourself of the rotating door.

I don’t think that dicking people around is EVER okay. And stabbing people in the back deserves a giant junk punch. With a sledgehammer.

But, that’s just my opinion.

Lol has a time and place.. maybe..

“LOL” is not a form of punctuation, or a form of grammar. It is an idiotic acronym that has become a normal way for people to communicate.

Well, I am here to tell you, it is not a period, or a comma, or an exclamation point. Nor does it need to be attached to every text you send. Imagine yourself standing in front of the person you are texting or emailing. Would you actually laugh out loud at them while having this conversation? Imagine how dumb you would look.

“good morning!”

“good morning” and then boisterously laugh in someones face.

What the actual hell? That just doesn’t happen!! So I ask  you this…

Why is “lol” being added to nearly every sentence that is typed? I understand the use of it if you are actually laughing out loud, but using it as a form of grammar or punctuation? Screw you! Learn how to communicate like a normal person. And I adamantly refuse to believe that the overuse of “lol” is now normal, and those people who throw it in in every sentence are the normal ones! No frigging way. Not while there is still breath in my lungs.

I will be the first to admit, I use “hahaha” a lot in my texts. But I am actually laughing as I type these things! Therefore, justified! I have NEVER typed

“hello haha.” “how are you haha.” “good morning hahahahahaha”

NO! Because I am not a flailing crazy person who’s jacked up on too much lithium.

I am just saying… use some common sense. And if you would laugh in my face in a conversation, fine! use “lol” freely. However, if you wouldn’t, may I suggest the use of periods and exclamation points instead. And if you do laugh out loud in my face during a normal conversation, and there was nothing to prompt the laughter, you can bet your ass I will just turn and walk away. No way I am I getting entangled in your lithium bust just because of how close I am standing to you.

But, that’s just my opinion… lol. (now excuse me while I go kick my own ass…)

Women give birth, and men stand to pee…

I had a very hilarious and bizarre conversation with my 4 year old today. I am thinking it may start a branch-off to a whole new segment on here “Conversing with my 4 year old” Cuz let’s be honest, he is bizarrely hilarious and I think that people would benefit from hearing what I listen to all day, every day. But for today, I am just going to let you in on one of the absurd things that transpired.

We (my husband, myself and our son) finally cracked the mystery to why women get the shit-end of the stick. Cuz let’s face it – being a woman is no picnic. Sure, it’s not all that bad cuz when we feel ugly, MAKEUP – and it’s perfectly acceptable! And when our pants don’t fit, YOGA PANTS – and it’s perfectly acceptable! When we get bored with our hair, BANGS! – and it’s perfectly acceptable! Men don’t have these options – well, they do, but it is not acceptable in any way, shape or form. But I digress – being a woman has it’s moments of pure suckage. (I may tm that word, haha!) We have boobs to contend with at an age where we still have no idea who we are. Then we get the blessed woman shit that sticks with you for over half of your life (glorious). Then comes all of the unwritten rules and sexual politics…. We have to grow our hair out, so it looks like VS model hair (cuz apparently guys like having something to grab on to, or so I have heard) but our body hair has to cease to exist, and we have to be smooth like the butt of a baby. Our nails have to be perfectly manicured, same with our toes. Our skin has to be soft and smooth and free of dryness. We have to smell good, but not smell too strong. We have to have curves and be strong, but not too strong. We have to have sing-song voices and a pleasant sounding laugh. Our boobs need to be propped up and perky. Our underwear needs to be flossed up our ass cracks. Everything needs to be just-so, and we should do it all with a smile on our faces.

Then, once we have handled all of this, and possibly found someone who appreciates our situation, we get pregnant! Yes, cuz being a woman with all of that isn’t hard enough, please introduce a foreign creature into our insides, who takes our sleep, patience, stability, center of gravity, figure, appetite, intelligence, memory, hair texture, foot size, eye sight, etc, and blows it the EFF UP! I’m not saying pregnancy isn’t magical, cuz it is nothing short of a miracle, but that shit messes you up, inside and out! And then there is the actual act of child-birth. HOLY SHIT! I am not even going to delve into that right now, because that is really a topic for a different post.

Back to my initial point – the 4 year old and the difference between men and women. While I did not get into all of this with him, we did point out a few differences.

He looked at me and said “Mommy, I want to have a baby in my tummy” And I said “no sweetie, only girls have baby’s in their tummys. Boys don’t have babys” and he asked why. And I said, without thinking much about it “Women have baby’s, and men stand to pee” And my husband piped up and said “That seems fair to me!” SO! Apparently because women get a “break” every time they go pee, and get to sit down and relax while urinating, that it balances out in the end. Men stand to pee, and exert all of that energy over the course of their lives, while women get to sit. So, to balance it out and create a level playing field, women go through the rest of that shit, and are the ones who have baby’s, to make up for the sitting-to-pee.

Sure. I think we may have cracked the lifelong debate and battle of the sexes. Seems legit! hahaha….