So, if you are going to have any comprehension of what i'm talking about half the time, you're gonna need some definitions. So here ya go, no complaining:
chuncho - my husband
sweetman - my oldest son
bundlekin - my baby son
i decided it might be wise to keep things somewhat anonymous, to protect the innocent (the kidlets) and because when the time comes that i bitch about how chuncho promised i could get a new kitten if only i let him do me in the back door, it might be better that it's not so easy for his co-workers to discover said information. yeah...you probably didn't want to know that either; too late!
in case you are wondering, no, i do not have a new kitten. i just don't roll that way. sure, maybe i'm a prude, and now you're thinking i'm all boring, vanilla...but i don't care! that's where poo comes out; i don't want anything goin' in there!
besides, given the trauma that the area received recently, you can't blame me! What trauma, you say? Now, this is gonna be graphic, so don't say I didn't warn you! Delivering the bundlekin caused a 3rd degree tear, which means i was ripped from my vag all the way through my sphincter and into a small part of my rectum. I spent over an hour getting my ass stitched back together by an obstetrician named Ringo Starr who kept saying, Oh, that's near your bottom! everytime I flinched. No, Ringo, I'm pretty sure that's IN my fucking bottom, thank you very much. Again, too much information. I think this blog is gonna be full of that. It's what happens when I'm nervous, too, I overshare. That's why I tend to clam up now when I'm nervous. Better not to say anything than to tell the guy you just met in your first year poli sci class your life story about how your boyfriend broke his leg, got fat embolism syndrome, almost died, and that's why you missed first semester. Fuck, that was over ten years ago, and it still makes me cringe.
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