|Are we serious with this?
It looks like a game of Minesweeper
With all of the old Wives tales and “ancient” Chinese gender charts all telling you that if you hump in a certain position at a certain angle at a certain time of the month with your pelvis in the air and your eyes crossed and you toss salt over your shoulder while drinking water upside down to be due in a certain month with your belly hanging a certain way- you will get the gender you’ve been hoping for or dreaming of or just have a preference toward… and then you pop out the opposite- it’s no wonder we women have the tendency to become skeptical and questioning and perhaps a little bit bitter about what people tell us in the future.
I mean, DAMN, that shit is downright confusing. And contradictory. And of course you will always have people that sweat by any one of those as fact/the truth/accurate…
Well shit. It’s pretty easy to say you’re accurate when there’s already a 50% chance you’ll be right, considering there’s only two options that’ll come out of you.
Once weirdos start breeding with animals or aliens and there are hundreds of options as what will be passing through the birth canal- then use your hocusy-pocusy nonsense and see how “accurate” it is. Get 50% on that shizz and you might be onto something.
After nearly all of those things were wrong on predicting the gender of both of my children (this includes my ‘intuition’, or lack thereof) – I became a skeptic of everything in the parenting world.
Oh, you say that’s the best bottle EVARRRRRR and you’ve never known a child not to love it? Psh. I doubt that.
Then you hear it again, and again… and you start to wonder if perhaps during your plunge into stubborn “everyone else is WRONG” motherhood, you somehow missed out on that not everyone is full of shit or that not everything is based on superstition or preference. If EVERYONE is saying the same thing- it can’t be wrong, can it?
So what happens then? Once you let your guard down a little and start accepting that the world is not full of baa-ing mama sheep. Maybe you get some really good advice or suggestions that end up helping you- believe it or not that has been known to happen. Maybe you got nothing but a little bit of hope that there would be light at the end of whatever fucking tunnel you find yourself trudging down- whether it be a five foot deep pile of stank-ass dirty diapers, or the horrendous sound of thumb-sucking, or an obsession with booger eating- and that’s all pretty fine and dandy, ’cause what harm does a little smidge of hope do anyone?
That has been me in a nutshell. When you squeeze out a human, everyone, their mother, and their crazy aunt becomes hellbent on giving you advice. I turned off my ears a long ass time ago- but every now and then the Google fails me and I can’t find an answer to the question I have been asking myself… so I ask. Damn that moment of weakness!
Mixed within these nuggets of great suggestions and sound advice always comes the “who the hell came up with THAT shit?” you see flying around. It’s not even that it’s bad or negative- but it’s something that you WISH were true, but it’s just so fucking nutty that the better part of you still hopes that maybe one day it will be… but it ISN’T.
It could just be that I am a horrible terrible suck ass of a person, because even after 5 years of having bodily fluids flung at me by the creatures I flung out of myself, I still can’t tune out the sound of whine- not even if I turn the music all the way up. I still haven’t learned to scold out of the side of my mouth in public as to not have people turning and looking when my kid randomly decides to go exorcist. I can’t be bothered to kill people with kindness, and I have no interest in literally being the “bigger” person. Why would I want to do a thing like that?
I heard somewhere once, I don’t remember where or by who, but trust me, I heard it- that once you become a parent, you become a morning person.
You’re telling me… that just because I happen to push humans out of my vajayjay (or for those who got c-section, have them ripped from your innards)- that suddenly, miraculously, MAGICALLY, I am going to stop wanting to stab people at 6 in the morning? That I am going to enjoy being woken up at 3am by a kid who can’t hold their urine until daylight?
….. Pardon me while I laugh hysterically.
Look. My kids weren’t awful sleepers, but they weren’t great sleepers as babies either. I don’t care HOW many times they woke me up or kept me up through the years- I STILL HATE MORNINGS. I like sleep. I’ve accepted that I am getting older, and therefore, I appreciate sleep even more than I did once I realized that naps weren’t the devil incarnate being forced upon me by my tyrant of a mother. I like sleep and I don’t get enough of it as is- so when my kids decide that 5am is an awesome time to roll out of bed even though the moon is still high in the sky- I am NOT popping out of bed like Suzy fucking Sunshine, stretching my arms over my head with a smile on my face, an instant cheery disposition and announcing “GOOD MORNING CHILDREN! ISN’T IT A WONDERFUL DAY?”
No. I am not. I am groaning to “go the f…. (yeah I try to manage not to say a curse word here. Can you guess how often I am successful?) back to bed or you will regret it!”
Seriously. What the hell, saying? And what the hell, people spreading this saying around? Why would you get my hopes up like that? That’s just cruel! Mornings are EVIL. And sometimes, if I get up too early, mornings make me poo. Angry poo. I feel like crap in the morning. I don’t like it- and if there was a slim chance that procreating would suddenly make me LOVE mornings and become one of those irritating morning people? Yes please!
But no. IT AIN’T TRUE! It’s all a lie! A LIE I SAY!
If you weren’t a morning person BEFORE kids, chances are you’re not going to be a morning person AFTER kids. The only thing that changes is that you have a kid around to remind you that you hate them, since they’ll never let you miss one.
Unless through this whole “overly cheery and therefore totally obnoxious saying” situation we have going on… I missed out on some very heavily veiled sarcasm..
cause if that saying is intended to be sarcastic.. Oh, I so agree.
10yo: What is calculus? Me: It's you + me = us Husband: get out. #oldpeoplejokes
Bravery AND confidence pic.twitter.com/voqjVXWgZx
@wildblueME I just don't tell them what I'm making anymore
Winning Advice from an 8-year old goo.gl/fb/MmhfYU
Y'know what's awesome? I don't even have to waste time trying new recipes because my kids will tell me they hate it before I start cooking.
@Julieannefiu I still sing WRAPPED UP LIKE A DOUCHE. I think they're lying about the "real" lyrics
I sang SO many embarrassingly wrong song lyrics with such confidence. pic.twitter.com/Ww5TaAxY3r
@AndreaPerez0217 Not that I'm biased, but I highly recommend ;) Hope you enjoy!