Disclaimer: Dear Men in My Life (and other people who don't care to know my bra size), read this at your own discretion.
I don’t know if it’s because I only have two kids, or because they’re both girls, or because I look like I might want to shoot myself, but people like to ask me if I’m “done.” And then instead of believing my “YES (!!!),” they cluck something of the, “Oh, you never know…” variety. Well, you know what, folks? I DO KNOW. And you know something else?
10 – If my 5’2” frame gives birth to one more nine-pounder, my nether-regions are gonna start singing “Love is a Battlefield.” And as for the rest of my sad, sad, female remains?
My bra size went from B to D to A with my first daughter, A to C to A- with my second daughter and…you don’t need to remember fractions to see where I’m going with this.
9 – They don’t refund faulty vasectomies.
8 – I tune out as soon as I sense the electric current of THIS in the air.
My ears clog, my brain shuts down and I get home because my feet and hands still (somehow) remember where I live. If one more child were to open her mouth and give me sh*t, I might go completely deaf and drive off to, like, Ohio, or something.
7 – Check out the rest of the list over at the Rockstar Joint that is Momalom. Those girls know how to throw a blog party, and while they’re nursing a 10-day communication hangover, they agreed to let me play in their space. Be sure to snoop around while they clean up the mess we made during 5 for 10. You’ll be glad you did.
