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Six Word Saturday V3

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(Left: Manda, Right: Vejay)

  1. Taunted (by wee little people)
  2. Frigid (St Lawrence Rive is NOT friendly in June)
  3. Silly (Reminded me of being a kid)
  4. Humorous (We all laughed as I hesitated & whined)
  5. Drained (Outside ALL day, I was ready for bed at 7 p.m.)
  6. Happy (I am so grateful for my kids, the kids I get to babysit, friends & family)

Post Traumatic Pregnancy Syndrome – a.k.a Motherhood

This shit has gotten real and I have no complaints. I have a good life. By no means perfect or flawless… but, good. Aside from the unwavering temptation to throat punch Daddy P. when he does his hourly walk-by boobing or grab my thirteen year old and say “What the FUCK is wrong with you?” — I’m good. All is well in my world.

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Okay – so there is a few things I would to discuss. One is PTPS. Not P.T.S.D. – Post Traumatic PREGNANCY Syndrome, most commonly known as motherhood. I’m not a single mom. Well, I am .. it just depends on the day and whether or not the Army has decided to capture Daddy P. and upset the order in my house. By upsetting the order things get rather chaotic. The kids loose their minds, the dogs eat shit they shouldn’t, everything stops working, I can’t find anything and well …. it’s Daddy P.’s fault (kind of, not really).

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Shenanigans, because – Fuck You! That’s why.

Fucking Shenanigans!Shenanigans. That’s all I’ve got. This girl has been boiling for a few days. Contemplating how to diplomatically say just what’s on my mind. All I can come up with is …. Fuck You. In the highest regards of course.

The problem with society today is no one gives a fuck. I’m not jumping to conclusions or making shit up (well, maybe I’m making shit up) … but, realistically speaking — people suck. I don’t do shenanigans unless it involves good friends, smoked pork, a camp fire and Bud Light. I don’t have the tolerance for stupid shit or stupidity in general. It doesn’t sit well with me when you invest yourself into something and in the end find yourself bent over backwards taking it up the ass like a boss. So, here’s how I see it ….

What’s it worth to you? You make a choice. Every choice has consequences. They can be good or bad depending on the circumstances. That seems like a rather simple concept, right? Are you confused? I’m not confused – I made that shit up. So, back to choices …. you pick option (A) or option (B), fuck (C) and (D) … I’m trying to keep this as dumb-downed as possible.

Option (A) – Be content with what you have. Make the best of it and live life to the fullest.

Option (B) – Pretend your content with what you have, get some on the side and believe you’re living life to the fullest.

Consequences to Option (A) seem rather positive. I mean you’re living life, raising a family, working, doing things that matter to you and being honest. Not flawless, but honest. That shit sounds real to me.

Consequences to Option (B) … You’re a douche bag. That’s all I’ve got.

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Divine Secrets: Childhood

Following along with the Divine Secrets of the Blah Blah Bloggerhood … this week’s challenge theme is “Childhood.” I LOVE talking about my children, because quite frankly they are like little drunk people. They are weird, smelly and do things that I can not comprehend as an adult.

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Kids are Weird: Stop that!

My Daughter

 

“Please stop making those noises.”

(weewoo …snot like sucking noise ….reeeeerahhhh…cough….BANG!)

“Did you here me? Stop that!”

Kids are weird.

My eight year old manages to make the most absurd noises. 95% of them coming from his throat which is disgusting. His favorite place to make these absurd and rather obnoxious noises is while we’re stuck in the van. He is smart. He obviously wants to share his talents with his family and no better place to do it than when we’re all stuck in a vehicle plowing down the road at 60 mph. I have contemplated doing a tuck and roll from the vehcile on occasion. Especially those day where all three of my children insist on making different noises at the exact same time. My van is a zoo. Filled with little human beings that have a variety of disgusting and weird talents. Daddy P. thinks by pulling the van over that the ridiculous behaviors will stop. I give him credit for trying, however the reality is the “Oh Shit” moment of silence only lasts until the van is placed back into drive and we have hit 60 mph.

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