Parenting Rants, Witty Rants

Vagisil Is Safe For Bubble Baths! (You’re Welcome!)

(RE-BLOGGED from my ex-blog Sass Past Midnight):

Needless to say, a lot has been-a happnin’ in the delirious world of yours truly over the last couple of months. I have been fidgeting and face-booking for like… 40 minutes, trying to organize my hot mess of a life in my mind and figure out a civilized fashion in which to spill my thoughts. But fuck it. You can throw newspaper over vomit but at the end of the day, the vomit is still there and ok that wasn’t the greatest analogy. Anyhow I was inspired today.

I got home, tossed the offspring into the bathtub with a bunch of toys to keep them distracted for 20 minutes (mommies…darlings….dolls….if you have never forced your children into a bathtub just to give yourself some time to breathe, bang, write, do whatever the fuck makes your soul tingle…then you have failed yourself), got into a sports bra, jumped into my Nikes, popped Jillian Michaels into my DVD player, threw my Beats headphones on and “MAMI!!!!”  followed by some violent splashing of water and wet-skin slap exchanges. Fuckin’ great. There I was. At the crossroads of  “drowned child versus hot summer bod” and well… it was a hard decision but I saved the kid. I need to start accepting who I am and I need to rekindle my relationship with my cellulite and my fat and just you know.. squash the beef. We cool cellulite. We cool.

Of course when I walked into the bathroom my 3 year old JJ had already merrily emptied my Vagisil wash and said “BUBBLES MAMI!” and flashed that devious little smile on his face once he caught of a glimpse of my borderline pyscho-mom face. It’s not all bad I mean.. my children shall sleep tonight smelling like brand new vaginas. Ah yes. Motherhood.  And no. No I did not work out. I decided that I needed to blog. It was time. Thank you Vagisil bubble bath for keeping me fat and heavily inspired.

Motherhood has been ruthlessly kicking my ass lately. You would think with a step daughter I’ve helped raise for 7 years and my own 5 year old on deck, that I would have gotten my shit together by now but au contraire…it gets surprisingly worse by the day! JJ is cursing like a truck driver (no fucking idea where the fuck he got that shit from). The other night he says to me “Mami, let’s eat in bed.” I say “No, papi is outside, you know he does not like that, that’s our secret when papi is not home!” So…..his immediate response was to look me dead in the eye, shrug his tiny shoulders and casually say “Fuck papi.”  I’m pretty sure I had an out of body experience in that moment.  I have no words to express just how naturally that response came from him. Bad parenting you say? It’s our fault?  Maybe. But whatever he is a boy. But never fear! I found a solution.  My solution was to sign him up for tee-ball with hopes that he will lean towards becoming a preppy, respectful, disciplined, intelligent baseball obsessed kid. Chances are he will be a boat/motorcycle hustlin’ mechanic. And Actually…. I love mechanics. I was raised by mechanics since birth and I fell in love with a hustlin’ mechanic/car/motorcycle freak. So I hope he learns whatever makes him fucking happy. Bam!

On to the princess of this ghetto castle: Tiffany (who is in Pre-K). Little Miss Sunshine confronted Joey and I about sex.

(Let me give you  moment to let that soak in like seasonin’ in the wise words of Nikki Minaj).

Long story short: I kiss Joey in the lips and she says “EWWWW Stop doing SEX!!!!” out of nowhere. Joey and I were completely caught off guard. We must have looked like deer in front of headlights for like a minute. I tried to keep it cool and clueless and ask her what that even means. She responds with “kissing in the mouth and touching the (private parts)”.  She then tells us that her older sister told her that this is all we do (her father and I) whenever we are home alone.

Fucking shoot me.

Let’s not discuss the fact that her “older” sister is only 8. Yes. Times are difficult. But I had to drop that conversation with Tiffany with hopes that she would forget about the comments her sister made, because NO…. there’s no way in hell we are having any kind of “talk” pertaining to sex. That’s not even an option. Instead, we had a talk with her sister about watching what she says to her sister. It’s not my job to approach that topic with her. She has a mother in her life. And her father? HA. Let’s just say “denial” is the only way to put it for him. I adore my stepdaughter with all of my heart. But she is way beyond her years. I see it coming and I don’t think anyone else is mentally prepared for the tsunami of sassy-rebellion that’s approaching.

Sigh. So yea. That’s not even the icing on the cake. Speaking of cakes. Actually let’s not. Maybe next post. All I want is my bed. God I just want to sleep these days. Toodles noodles!



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