Looks like I can’t keep up with being a part time working mom, stay at home mom, wife, blogger, chef, crossfit junkie, super hero, attempted Paleo enthusiast…so on. So this poor blog about my life with sass has suffered. Shit now it’s time for everyone to mom shame me for not being the picture perfect human being. Guess what assholes? Suck it. Sometimes I get lazy. It is a lot of hard work chasing sass 24/7, attempting to have Chrissy Teigen’s physique, cook, clean, work, and of course being a perfect trophy wife.
This morning I got to thinking of all the bullshit expectations of society for moms, i.e. breastfeeding, cloth diapers, organic foods, cry it out method, attachment parenting, bouncing back to pre baby weight like 2 hours after your little sass falls out of your hot pocket, always looking pristine and having a pristine house. Well ya know what, its all a bunch of bullshit. I prefer being lazy and doing what is best for my little sass and tall bald roomie….oh and our fur kids, can’t forget pug 1 and pug 2. Bitches, I do what I want.
For instance, guess what, I hardly ever do my own laundry. (sass’s is done every single week and upon marrying my roomie he decided he didn’t like the way I folded his tee’s so he does his own awful…bonus!) I despise washing my clothes and fortunately I have enough sweatpants and gym apparel to supply a small, underprivileged, third world country. So guess what…I will look like a homeless person most days. Why the F do I need to wear jeans and a blouse or sweater in my own home? I will end up with boogers and food smeared across my waist anyways. So the oversized college sweatpants that i trip over and a tank top with a built in bra for the ole knockers is as good as it’s gonna get. Chances are I throw the same sweats on every day also, because if they don’t stink…they’re totally clean and still wearable. Yes I may scrape off crusty food from them on occasion, but ehhhh who cares. I spend my day working from home and cuddling a two year old wild banshee.
I get really tired of telling sass to stay out of the freezer. My father ruined her this past summer and bought her 13,000 push up popsicles. You know the awful ones in the plastic that end up as juice and you cut the shit out of the corner of your lip trying to squeeze the juice out. Anywho, she has recently experienced ice cream. A lot. Loves it. She is an ice cream addict. Today, she got it out of our freezer at 9:57am and ya know what, I just didn’t have the energy to tell her “no” for the 100th time today. So she had icecream before noon and I don’t give a rats ass.
We recently have had a hard time keeping sass in her bed. I think she was having bad dreams and during the holidays we were all sick with typhoid fever so I just let her fall asleep with me wherever. So we got her a frickin fish to coax her back into her room. It worked miraculously let me tell you. Basically I am number one mom of the year for doing that research. Although, last night she woke up at like 2am and ya know I really just didn’t have it in me to get up and carry her back to her bed. Especially after the long workweek I’ve had. I function very poorly on little sleep. I vaguely remember telling my roomie to move the hell over and make room for sass. Lord knows he wasn’t going to get up and put her back in her bed and I was toasty warm at 2am. So suck it to everyone who thinks it’s bullshit I let my child in our bed. (gasp, the horror)
Guess what, the house is clean if you shove all the toys under the couch or jam them into the toy box. They aren’t on the floor so who gives a shit about organization.
Occasionally it looks like sass is putting a pug in a headlock, she loves them. No pugs are ever harmed but you try to tell a two year old to be “gentle”. It’s like trying to walk on water, and no I am not a religious figure so I can’t. Can you? If you can I need to know how, might make bath time less like wrestling an alligator.
Yes I let Disney Junior play all day long on my tv. No her brain is not going to rot. She barely watches the damn television. I just don’t care to know about all the awful things happening in the world (hello unnecessary anxiety) and I don’t watch smutty reality tv so it’s a nice background noise. Speaking of which…have you seen those frickin awful British spuds? GOOD GOD that is a travesty to starches. I will turn you terrible taters into french fries. Now I will have the awful Small Potatoes song in my head all night. Fantastic.
Also becoming a mom has made my grammar and proof reading skills incredibly awful. So chances are I use the wrong there, they’re, or their on an occasion. Or throw a comma where it shouldn’t be. But guess what I am a damn good momma! (ha comma momma)