Oh they are real all right. DAmn real. and I'll let you in on a secret....I'm going to win them.
Despite the fact that my kids think ketchup is a vegetable and that dinner comes outta the microwave, I'll win.
Despite the fact they spend 7 hours a day with my sitter instead of me, I'll win.
Despite the fact that throughout the summer I spend every waking moment with them and they love me and leave me the same as when i'm working, I'll win.
Despite the fact their finger prints are everywhere, their toys are strewn across the living room, and yet you could eat off my bathroom floors, I'll win.
And here is why: I've got the arsenal.
See I figured this out way back during breastfeeding days (i survived a POW camp there, phew. Made McCain look like a wuss). I took all the breast pumps and apparatus that came with them, along with all the free formula shit I got during the first years of my kids' lives.
Now here is the tricky part: I adapted the breast pumps ( I have several b/c you see you can't return one you don't like, b/c, well that is icky) to fire out the formula. I am so ready. Turrets a-blazing, I've even got one for the Jeep.
When the SAHMs come to my door in their comfy sweats and sensible New Balance Shoes looking for me to bake 10 dozen cupcakes for the bake sale tomorrow, I'll blast 'em off the front porch.
<> When the WOHMs come to my door in trendy pant suits and stilettos kids in tow wanting me to watch their lil darlings till their meeting is over....I'll soak her till the rayon disintegrates.
I'll have double horns a blazing. It'll be like Omaha Beach, only with Similac and alternating pulses. I'll do Eisenhower proud. Schwarzkopf and Colin Powell wil tell Condi they need me to set things right in Iraq. I'm like Switzerland with ammo. Mammary ammo. hm.
B/c really, who wants to mess with a bunch of women w/ PMS. No wonder there are mommy wars.....we're all bitches.
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