My mothering skills are questionable.
My first born was my pet project. She was like home economic class without the text books. My trial run at motherhood. It still baffles me that they let me take her home from the hospital seeing that I couldn’t figure out breast feeding nor installing the car seat. You can imagine the disgust from the nurse when she wheeled me out and realized I hadn’t installed it yet.
Shouldn’t that have been a sign people? You think I need to go home with one of these?
Yes, I know I had taken care of a dog for a couple of years but I knew going into that situation that I had the option of giving him to a good home should I change my mind, plus he didn’t care if I slept all night and forgot to feed him unlike that 7 1/2 pound tittie muncher in there.
Seven years later, I thought I had mastered the art of motherhood, clearly more Roseanne Barr than June Cleaver, and decided to do it again.
The second time around was much easier. No worries of dog hair on the pacifier or dog slobbers, you just learn to worm them both every couple of months. No worries about daily baths. You learn that dirt makes a kid grow and with that Ella is growing like a weed seeing as she only get a “good” one three times a week with a spit shine in between.
You also learn to compromise. I take the oldest to school in the mornings and Rico takes Ella to day care.
Motherhood for me is doing it your own way and bucking against society standards.
For instance, the other morning when Rico had an early out of town business meeting causing me to take Ray-Ray to school and Ella to the babysitters.
Ella decided she wasn’t wearing clothes that day and everytime I put them on, she took them off. ON,OFF. ON, OFF. ON,OFF….until I totally lost my freaking mind and blew a gasket….and….
TOOK HER NAKED TO THE BABYSITTER’S!!!!
I grabbed a blanket, carried her to the preheated truck, placed her naked hiney in the car seat, listened to her sing “ME AM NAAA-KEEE’ and prayed that no one would pull me over.
Upon arrival to the babysitter’s and the unveiling of the the birthday suit, the babysitter reassured me that sometimes a “momma’s gotta do what a momma’s gotta do” and I told her that’s exactly how we roll, keeping it real in Hooterville.
Can ya’ll imagine what kind of hot mess I’d been if I’d been that crazy fertility woman with 14 kids??? America, be thankful I stopped at two!