Where Are My Boobies?

Not mine…

Let me assure you that my own boobies are firmly resting right by my belly button…

Unless your reading this while I’m sleeping, in which case they’re on my sides, since I tend to sleep on my back…

So if I’m not talking about my boobs, then whose boobs do I speak of?

Hope…

Yes, Hope’s non existent boobs…

This is what I walked into with my three oldest kids last week….


Yes, that’s Hope sitting topless on my bed asking her brothers where her boobies are?

I couldn’t even interrupt yet, I had to listen in….

Jack determined that when Hope got married, that’s when she would get “big ones like Mommy, so you can feed your babies”

Blake interjected and decided that Hope would get boobies when she’s a teenager because he’s seen teen girls and they have boobies…

Okay! Time to stop this conversation!

Hope, put your shirt on, you’ll get boobs when you’re about 12…

Boobs. Hope. Hope. Boobs.

Already I have to deal with this…

Please tell me I was right though…

Twelve? Right? She’ll be twelve?

Or 22?

I’m hoping for 22….

 

Effective Birth Control For Your Four Year Old

Hope got married a few weeks ago at preschool.

I know, I was surprised too, but both her and JJ planned it out, she wanted to wear one of her pretty dresses to school the day of the ceremony and JJ showed up all dressed up too and also raided his very own piggy bank to bring her flowers…


Seriously? How adorable are they?

I can almost forgive her for not giving me enough time to buy a fabulous, thunder stealing, mother of the bride dress…

So I can only assume that the wedding was the reason Hope’s mind turned to having babies the following day…

As we were in carline to pick up the boys, Hope asks me Mom? How do the babies get out of someone’s tummy?

I’ve had experience with this line of questioning before with Blake and Jack, and thanks to my C sections, the mention of vaginas has never had to come up with the talk of babies…score! The boys very easily took the explanation that the doctors cut my belly open and took out the babies, no more questions and they went on their way…how easy it that? I expected the same reaction from Hope.

Oh, how wrong I was…

Hope immediately burst into hysterical sobbing.  Hysterical.  I could not console her.

Hope! Hope, honey, what is it? Why are you crying? 

I. I. It’s. I. It’s just that I want babies so bad but I do not want to ever ever have my belly cut open! There will be blood and it will hurt!

Followed by more hysterical crying.  I felt like the worst mother ever. Maybe I should have just showed her Dumbo and gone with the stork theory…

Hope, I promise the doctor gives you lots of medicine and it doesn’t really hurt too bad and it’s so worth it! Mommy loves all of you and I would do it all over again just to have you! I promise!

Mommy, I don’t want my belly cut! I don’t! Isn’t there any other way for the babies to come out!

Hmmm, now that you mention it, there is. But how do I tell a four year old that instead of getting your belly cut open your vagina is the way?  I just can’t win…but I had to give it a shot…anything to stop the tears…

Well Hope, now that you mention it, there is another way…

I immediately have her attention…What?

Um, you can push the baby out…

What do you mean? Push how?

Um, out of your privates…

Hope stops talking. Then her lips start to quiver and more tears fall down…

But mommy! Babies are very big and my privates are very small!

Yes, that’s true honey, but privates get bigger when the baby is ready and then they get smaller again…

And yes, I do want to just smash my head into the steering wheel…what am I doing? I’m obviously not equipped to explain anything to this child, I fear I’ve just set her up for years of therapy….

Hope said nothing for 45 minutes…she just sat in the car sadly….and refused look at me…

So I think it’s fair to say I scarred Hope for life…

Time to start saving for therapy…but hey! At least I won’t have to shell out for day care while she’s still in high school!

*and yes, I am linked up with Mama Kat today writing a post inspired by the word red…

 

 

Why Kids Are Assholes-Part 4

I have no privacy…

I can’t pee alone, shower alone, or dress alone…

In fact, I hardly ever sleep with my husband alone either…our children have mastered the art of cock blocking to ensure that no more children will join our family…

But I digress…

No privacy means that when I was waxing my legs I did so in the company of Hope who watched and asked questions the whole time…

Does that hurt mommy? How many times do you have to do it? Is that why you have no hair on your pee-pee Mommy? Are you going to do Daddy’s body so he’s not hairy either?

For 45 straight minutes I listened to her…

Fast forward three days….

Setting: The Wal Mart check out line….

Check Out Girl: (holding my box of Veet wax strips) Do these work? I’m tiring of bleaching my mustache, I don’t think it works good enough….

And Hope replied…


Yes. Yes, it was as embarrassing as it sounds…

The Wal Mart chick turned bright red, I turned bright red, neither one of us said anything else, I paid and left…

And it’s official, Hope is my least favorite, assholery child….

Asshole

The Black Mask

“Mommy” I hear Hope call out to me as I’m making dinner one night in early October…

“Mommy, I want to be Princess Tiana for Halloween.”

“Okay sweetie”  I reply, “Mommy will order the dress online and have it delivered before Trick or Treats”

“Okay Mommy. And don’t forget to order me a black girl mask too.”

What?! What?!  A black girl mask? Oh. My. Lord. I’m only thankful she didn’t ask in public and spared me people shooting me dirty looks…

“Um, Hopie….they don’t really make black girl masks.”

“But Mommy! Princess Tiana is not white like me, she has brown skin like Jordan* and I have to have brown skin too!”

“Um, how about if I buy you the matching shoes too? That way people will know you’re really Tiana? Because you have the dress and the shoes!”

“Or Mommy! You can paint my whole body black! Yeah, paint me black! Actually, I have to be brown!”

“Um, but then you’re dress will get ruined from the paint, so how about I buy you the dress and the shoes and the tiara! Then everyone will definitely know you’re Princess Tiana!”

“Okay Mommy, good idea!”

Phew! Crisis averted…and before I had to go into the whole blackface and how it’s frowned upon thing…

Two weeks later…at Party City while the boys are looking at costumes…

“MOMMY! HERE ARE BLACK PEOPLE MASKS! YOU SAID THEY DON’T MAKE BLACK PEOPLE MASKS, BUT I FOUND THEM! SO PEOPLE WITH WHITE SKIN CAN PRETEND TO HAVE BROWN SKIN ON HALLOWEEN!

So thank you to the makers of the President Obama mask…I wasn’t mortified at all**….

*one of her cousins

**huge fucking lie, I was so fucking embarrassed I wanted to grab all of my kids and run out while screaming that half of my nieces and nephews are mixed race and we love all people and that my four year old daughter is a fucking loon…

***After all of this Hope decided to be Belle…