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So there I am! Living it up in my 30-somethings with a ridiculously hot hubby, 3 seriously outgoing matter-of-fact smart beautiful kids, a cat named Roxii that just won't quit, 2 chihuahuas named Lokii (what was I thinking) and Brodii who don't understand the concept of pee outside.

I'm a strongly opinionated, outspoken, inappropriate and absolutely unapologetic chick going through this thing called life and trying to do it with my sanity intact. So far, this isn't working out so well!

Follow me as I confession myself straight to the LCBO. My rants, my way...you've been warned ;) Xo

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What the F was I thinking...

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If anyone is a robot parent of 3 kids under the age of 7, first off let me say aren't you a brave one, second, shut up, I know I'm a walking talking bitching contradiction, and third ... what the f-bomb are we thinking when we decide to take child #2, DD M, to gymnastics and bring child #3 along for the lesson???

Let me explain. Child #1, DS J is fantastic for the most part. He's laid back, he's 7, and he understands the concept of 'glue your ass to the bench and don't move...please'. That said, I never had to say that to him. He sat down, another cute little guy came over with a tablet (little bastard bugger, I don't even own one) and begins a debate with J over who would win the war if zombies attacked us. Umm, duh, vampires would -- some kids are SO uncool!

Pan camera to the right and you'll find DD K sitting with her legs cocked in the air and wide open while wearing a skirt and gotchies. Oh yeah, I forgot to mention a few things.

1. It's a huge glass window that looks down into the gym where 50-60 kids, women and men are enjoying their lessons in gymnastics and coaching etc.

2. There are 4 rows of benches/plush couches (I shit you not)/bleacher type seating directly behind that are filled side to side, up and down.

3. K modified her outfit between getting home from picking up M and J and leaving the house to which I didn't notice (yes, I'm classy like this) that she had removed the tights from under the skirt, thus leaving only her underwear.

Now...if any of you know me well enough, you will know that I am not a girly-girl. I don't do make-up, pigtails, skirts or dresses (without wearing a pair of shorts underneath). I would much rather flaunt my hot ass around wearing pj pants 24/7 - HOLLA. Knowing this, and knowing that every child will carry a little piece of dad AND mom in them, (I can see you all know where this is going) sitting "proper" and with your legs closed is a very VERY difficult thing to do...if you are me. True story.

So there she is with her gotch hanging out. I, trying to save her some dignity -- ok, MY dignity, reach over and push her legs down, smile and tell her to cut it out her gotch are hanging out and to keep her legs down.

WRONG THING TO DO

That was like free game to do it again, and again, and again....annnnnnnd again. I kept telling her to keep her legs down and closed. While I did this she naturally had a BF (bitch flip) and was yelling at me to leave her alone and she has to go pee and then pee again and why does that girl have a toy and she isn't giving it to me and what's your name and why are you here and how come she won't let me take the toy now and momma I gotta pee again and catch me I'm going to jump...

...I missed.


WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH (insert rolling on the floor, legs wide open, screaming like someone just took the last rolo and you hate your mother).

So only 2 minutes have passed since we got there, only 58 more to go! *gasp gasp*

Kidding, that was the first 35 maybe.

The remaining 25 minutes were with us arguing about why I wanted her to just sit still on my lap. YA RIGHT. Holding her legs closed. YA RIGHT. Telling her we weren't going to bathroom for the 8th time for her to pretend she had to pee. YA FUCKING RIGHT.

By the time I managed to yank her off the railing to go downstairs to the changerooms to pick up her sister, she was freaking out AGAIN, and did so right up until we got outside.

Think everything from here on in went smooth? *pig snort* Ahhhh no. Now she wants to walk the curb like a balance beam and trip, wipes out, screams bloody murder that she's dying cause she has not scrapped her knee.

After swinging open the door and THROWING MY CHILD INTO THE CAR, I drove and hit EVERY single red light home.

We are home now. Clearly. But I swear to god I will velcro her to a wall and let Jesus babysit her next time so that I can get #2 to gymnastics again before I willingly opt out of paying a sitter so I can take M and let her siblings see what she does.

PS. To those of you bitches that were sitting there thinking how horrible a parent I am because you are in some completely delusional world where your 3 year old acts like she's 25 and is so well behaved while you are out, cut your shit and stop lying...or at least stop drugging them! ;)