Say NO to Pumpkin Butts

Call me a prude and a party pooper (pun totally intended) but I don’t find the new trend of festively painting babies bottoms for holidays even a teeny bit cute.

My moral compass registers NO pretty much immediately.

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Don’t get me wrong, baby bottoms are adorable. In fact, I’m admittedly guilty of taking the token naked-baby-on-the-changing-table (belly side down) of each of my newborns when they came home from the hospital.

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I also have no problem with tots darting around the beach or kiddy pool in the buff. Any seasoned parent knows bathing suit malfunctions are not uncommon and tots love a good strip tease. They’re practicing autonomy- doing it all by themselves. Mastering the skill of dressing.

It happens. Kids are streakers from way back.

In a family centered environment it’s not that big of a deal.

I suppose my comfort meter alarms over-the-top at the mere thought of anyone restraining (they absolutely are holding them against their will) a baby so they can festively decorate their privates with paint.

It’s not cute.

Babies are not chalk boards or blank canvas for gods sake.

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We just don’t paint our offspring for our own selfish entertainment.

Again. It’s not cute.

Worse yet is posting these humiliating photos on the Internet for everyone and their brother to copy, paste and pin to Pinterest where the copy-paste-post cycle will repeat for all of eternity.

Soon enough, pumpkin butt will grow into a child with emotions who’s capable of independent thought and more than likely resent the hell out of the artist.

Way to go mom.

Don’t insult my intelligence by comparing hand and foot prints. It’s not even remotely close to butt prints. We’re comparing apples and oranges in which case, this one happens to be a pumpkin.

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My four kids (ages 13 – 20) remain horrified to this day when they view the changing table photos.

And, I do mean HORRIFIED.

I can’t even begin to imagine how they’d feel had I painted pumpkins or Easter eggs on their butts and posted them on the Internet.

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I know I’m going to get a lot of hate mail on this one.

C’est la vie.

I’m advocating for the babies and I’m not budging.

It also invites us to open an entirely NEW conversation that goes something like this- when explaining GOOD TOUCH – BAD TOUCH to your four year old… where does mommy doodling on baby sisters bottom or making canvas butt prints fall on the spectrum of what’s acceptable?

How confusing.

Where do we draw the line?

 

 

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Too sexy for my…


Just pretend my dog’s paw is actually Vanna White’s pointer arm and we’re playing…


How many things are WRONG with these underwear that I found in my drawer and don’t recognize?


They’re boy cut and probably belong to one of my kids friends.


Whatever.


You never know what’s going to show up in the wash.


Firstly, and most excruciating is the ATOMIC WEDGIE.


Thanks, I’ll pass.


And, no way in hell will I wear a thong. Ever.


You probably knew that.


If you want to be sexy, just cut through the BS and get naked.


Secondly, they’re cut so LOW, they accentuate your muffin top, which I like to refer to as a cupcake with extra fluffy frosting and sprinkles.



This only looks good on Santa Clause and the late John Candy.


Thirdly, the seam goes right down the super-sensitive middle.


The word NO rhythms with TOE, as in the desert animal with a hump.


Not attractive or comfortable.


Fourthly, the tag says Daisy Fuentes. I despise her from the days she hosted AFV (America’s Funniest Video’s – a FAMILY show) wearing stripper, pole-dancing, unfamily-friendly fashions. Also, she’s dumber than my dog (who’s dumber than a goldfish) and NOT remotely funny.


On a closing note- yes sire, that is indeed my olive green tile bathroom floor. I have a tub to match. Be very very jealous.


If I ever find a 70’s rotary phone or refrigerator in that color, I know exactly where I’m going to put it.


Let it be said, that the COMFORT of one’s underwear can make or break a person’s day, so chose wisely.


I call them underwear and not panties, because I’m way sexy like that.


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The Bunny Who Pooped Jellybeans

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How to Upscale (fancy pants name for recycle) your broken Easter decorations.

There’s no tutorial.

Just a photo for the simple-minded and you smarty-pants people.

His tail fell off.

I’m not entirely sure how, but I have a few theories:

*One of the kids threw him off the nearest cliff for stealing their Trix cereal. (Silly rabbit… LOOK OUT BELOOOOOOW!!)

*The dog ate  it. (He’ll pretty much eat anything. Nom! Nom! Nom!)

*It’s part of the resin bunny life cycle (on your 10th Easter, your tail shall drop off. Rejoice. It could have been your… !! )

*It was shot off by bad guys when the bunny kung-fu kicked the giant boulder blocking Jesus’s tomb, thereby freeing him, and saving your sorry soul from Hell and the flames of eternal damnation. (Breathe..)

*Jabba the Easter bread ATE it. (Very likely. They were in the same room. Plus, look a Jabba’s belly)

*Peter Rabbit is actually a SHE, and SHE lost it during labor and delivery. We all know how traumatic THAT can be, and plus, I think rabbits have like a kazillion babies.

(She could probably shoot candy apple bombs outta there when she sneezes… )

Never mind.

The End.