The Bearded Iris

A Recalcitrant Wife and Mother Tells All

Tag: sex

Apparently yoga teachers shouldn’t do that…

Have I ever told you the story of the time a musky male yoga teacher who was twice my age tried to massage all seven of my chakras with his pulsating kundalini?

Oh sure, we can laugh now, but at the time I probably should have filed a police report, or at least demanded dinner first.

Anyhooo, I’m sharing that gem over In The Powder Room today and I’d love for you to read it. Bring a mat, a yoga block, and some pepper spray.

yoga humor

Namaste, hookers.

-Leslie

“Mommy, how did I get out of your tummy?”

I’ve told you before that our dinner conversations tend to be pretty, uh…colorful, much to my sweet husband’s dismay.

Well, we had another doozy this week.

This was one of those moments when you wish you had a video camera rolling. But since I didn’t (do we ever when we really need them?), I’ll have to attempt to reenact the dialogue from the way I saw it unfold.

It went a little something like this…

Mini-Me (10 y.o. girl): Mom, have you ever missed the bus and had to chase it to get on?

Me: I don’t think so. I had to walk to school when I was your age. But I did have to run my hardest through an airport once to catch a flight. You were with me, do you remember that?

Nature-Boy (13 y.o.): I remember that. You were crying and we were all running.

Mini-Me: You were crying? In an airport? RUNNING? With us? I don’t remember that!

Me: Well I was about 6 months pregnant with Bucket Head and we were going to Arizona to visit your Bubbie and Zaydie, and we were super late, and my e-ticket wouldn’t work, and it was a mess. But yes, we had to run, HARD. I was crying because I was stressed out and afraid. We made the flight though. Nobody wants to get in the way of a sprinting pregnant lady.

Bucket Head (5 y.o. boy): You mean, I was in your tummy and you were running in an airport? That’s so silly, Mom.

Me: Yep. You were in my tummy…and you were HUGE.

Bucket Head: But Mom? How did I get OUT of your tummy?

(Mini-Me and Nature Boy’s eyes widened with excitement and/or fright.)

Mini-Me: (stage whisper) Should I tell him, Mom?

Me: NO. Don’t tell him yet. Not now. We’re eating. Daddy doesn’t like when we talk about stuff like that at the table. And I should tell him, not you. But thanks for the offer.

Bucket Head: Does the doctor cut the baby out?

Me: Sometimes. Pass the sour cream, honey.

Bucket Head: Well one time? The news was on? And Mommy was up in her room texting? And I saw a Mommy having a baby on TV. She was going like this [he grabbed the table with both hands, tightly shut his eyes, and made a sustained difficult pushing sound] and then she pooped out her baby…right out of her BUTT! I don’t think I was supposed to be watching that show.

The rest of us: ::giggle::

The Gatekeeper: You have to tell him now. You can’t let him think that babies get pooped out.

Me: It’s not totally inaccurate. Remember the sausage and peppers?

The Gatekeeper: Dude. We’re eating.

Me: (To GK) You said to tell him! (To BH) Right, you probably shouldn’t have been watching that show, buddy. But no, that mom didn’t poop out her baby.

Bucket Head: Really? Because it looked like it was coming out of her butthole. And it was all gross like poop.

Me: Most babies come out of their Mommy’s vagina.

Bucket Head: WHAT? (Deadpan face.)

Me: Vagina. Babies get pushed out of vaginas. And it’s hard work, so Mommies have to push and grunt and it’s messy. But it’s awesome.

Mini-Me: (Very concerned) But mom? A baby’s head is like this big, and a vagina is only that big. Do vaginas stretch out THAT much? (Holding her hands out like the size of her dinner plate.)

Me: Yep.

Mini-Me: How long do they stay stretched out like that?

Me: Oh…pretty much forever. Why do you think I wear such big pants?

The Gatekeeper: (Slowly shakes head in defeat.)

Mini-Me: I’m never having sex, ever.

Bucket Head: I AM. I want to poop out a baby! 

I don’t really remember what happened next, because I was laughing too hard.

And end scene. 

hide and seek bucket head

 

Fifty Shades of Slap-Yo-Mama Hilarity

I have not read Fifty Shades of Grey.

I realize this probably qualifies me as someone who is living under that proverbial rock, but so be it.

Because I am never going to read Fifty Shades of Grey.

And that’s final.

My reasons are two fold: Continue reading

Hot damn, I’m a guest blogger!

Shhhh! I’m on the lam.

Okay, that’s a lie. But it sounds really fun and naughty doesn’t it?! Like Butch Cassidy…with boobs.

The truth is, I’m moonlighting at my friend Megan’s blog today because she’s on vacation and needed a substitute. And like most substitutes worth a damn, I brought my own rules and some extra candy.

So come and get your daily dose of The Bearded Iris here today. And while you’re at it, leave Megan a nice comment and say hello. She may look normal, but you know she’s one of us or she wouldn’t have asked me to substitute. Just don’t tell her my security clearance is expired, m’kay?

hiding until the sirens fade,

-Iris

© Copyright 2011, The Bearded Iris.


© 2020 The Bearded Iris

Theme by Anders NorenUp ↑