Irony is the New Pink

So when that man that I married managed to knock me up for a third time, I had but one thought on my mind:

Please let the little bugger be healthy.

And then:

This one better damn well come with a vagina.

Or a gift receipt.

Whichever.

Because, let’s face it, I was terribly outnumbered in that whole ratio of penises (penii? penses? Why can I never remember the plural of penis? You’d think I’d remember something like that… I can totally describe in perfect detail the outfit Brenda was wearing the night that she and Dylan broke up for the first time, but the plural form of penis escapes me. Go figure.) versus vaginas war.

Plus I had serious doubts as to whether or not my bathroom could withstand being abused by one more human being with questionable aim.

And I really really really wanted to stick some pigtails on something. With matching bows. And striped tights. And tutus. And just pink. Pink, damnit. PINK.

Then she was a she. And I stuck bows on her head, and stuffed her in striped tights, and dressed her up in every color of tutu that I could find…

But those pigtails?

They took two damned years to get here.

And by that time, I was bloody bored.

The Baby's New Do The Baby's New Do The Baby's New Do

The Baby's New Do The Baby's New Do The Baby's New Do

The Baby's New Do The Baby's New Do The Baby's New Do

Of course, Peter hates it.

And wonders why it is that his daughter now has shorter hair than his son…

Yes, He's a Boy. And NO I Will Not be Cutting His Hair Shorter. Yes, He's a Boy. And NO I Will Not be Cutting His Hair Shorter. Yes, He's a Boy. And NO I Will Not be Cutting His Hair Shorter.

But then I’m still wondering what’s so damn hard about actually hitting the toilet.

So it’s all good.

December 6, 2008
Categories: Daily, I Heart Demerol
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1.©2008 by Courtney Hebert as Judith Shakespeare.
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