My house full of manginas that may save my vagina

If you know a bit about my back story and how this blog and my crotchfruit came to be- you might be aware that waaayyy back when- before I'd blown out my vagina two times- when I even had a passing notion of adding children to my life- I wanted one. Just one. Singular. And it was to be a girl. I was bound and determined to push a vagina out of my vagina- and that would be it! I'd be done! Life complete!

I'm a big fan of boys, don't get me wrong- I mean, I married one didn't I? But I just didn't want to raise one. I don't like sports. Or dirt. Or bugs. Or camping. Or really anything boyish other than belching. Belching I can do- but I'm a girl and I can belch better than any boy so obviously one does not need to have a boy in order to have a belching child.

Religiously throughout my school-aged years I watched Gilmore Girls. Even after I graduated. Even in re-run it is my all-time FAVORITE show. I watched that mother daughter relationship, and as flawed as it was at times- I LOVED it. I wanted that closeness that it seemed only a mother and daughter could have once the teenage years hit. I mean, you CAN talk to a son about sex and periods and horribly embarrassing woman issues- but I would think that'd scar them for life. The va-jay-jay can be a pretty scary beast to tackle, but it should be praised instead of feared. Amirite?

If you know ANYTHING about me or this blog, you will know that not only did I not just get one child- I got two. And neither of them have a vagina. Not technically or physically speaking, anyway.

It's been a long time since I've felt a pang of jealousy toward anyone who sees a hamburger instead of a hotdog on an ultrasound- and even longer since I've whined about how I really want a girl. There's no doubt in my mind that my uterus would LOVE to rule and lord over my life again- but even considering in my brain popping out another human makes my vagina recoil in fear, so currently I just don't think it's in the cards. That is NOT to say I don't occasionally think about it though. Don't we all play the "what if?" game every now and then?

Though I don't think I will ever stop wondering what my life would be like if I had a little girl from time to time- I think a recent revelation will stop my brain from tempting the uterus with thoughts of future children. The uterus likes it best when it can surprise me, anyway.

Parker is going through a new phase. He's 3, there is always a phase ending and a phase beginning, or multiple phases trying to fight each other in his giant dome that makes everything he does for a span of 3 days make absolutely no sense. Or... less sense than it usually does.
This new wonderful kick is that he absolutely MUST do everything himself. This includes but is not limited to going to the bathroom (even though he has terrible aim and is too short to plop his own ass on the seat to poo without a stool), picking out his own snack (even though he cannot reach the shelves), eating his own food- even really fucking difficult food to get onto a fork (and god forbid you try to help him and tell him how to do it differently, aka, more easily- he ain't havin' none of that) and getting dressed.

I searched for a picture of a snake
eating a rabbit.. but it was just too nasty.
Here's a happy bunny instead.

Getting dressed is starting to make me crazy. I appreciate that he is trying to dress himself- but he is NOT GOOD AT IT and he refuses help. ANY help. He doesn't want to be told that his head is being shoved into an arm hole or that his pants are on backwards. Parker doesn't care. Parker did it himself and to Parker, that is all that matters- and most days (aka days I don't have to go anywhere or be anywhere) I throw my hands up and let him fight with himself.
I leave, come back 15 minutes later, and the child is still stuck inside of a shirt with his head in a sleeve looking like a snake that just ate a rabbit.

That moment was when I uttered the words that changed everything: "Ugh you're just like a teenage girl!"

BAM! There it was! In neon technicolor flashing in front of my face. I don't need to have a teenage girl- my house is FULL of males who act just like them!

With one taking FOREVER to get dressed, the other boy child being ridiculously over-dramatic and resorting to tears and brow-beating to get his way over absolutely everything making me wonder if he in fact has ovaries, the large male taking longer to do his hair then it does me to get dressed, eat breakfast, feed both children and do my makeup... Shit, and who can forget the male DOG- who has the weakest bladder on earth. Don't you DARE get excited around him, he'll tinkle. He's never had babies- there is no excuse for such a thing!

It's just so damn clear now!
I AM SURROUNDED BY FEMALES! Well, Manginas if we're being technical.

It's okay vagina- calm down. You won't be blowing yourself out again any time soon.