“Mom!! Try to poo a lot so then you’ll have a baby!” Teddy said this to me yesterday out of the blue. Just imagining what his furiously-working-overtime little 4-year-old brain is parsing together about how babies are made makes me laugh/smile/cry… He’s been asking for a baby sister for a year or so now. “Time to get pregnant in your tummy, ok mom??” is another tidbit he’s thrown at me, as if I can snap fingers (or labia) together and out of my vagina flies a fully formed baby girl. Other things Teddy has said lately: I’ll tell you what you are! You’re just the bun of a hot dog! or Go away, ya bum clown!!! (referring to, what I can only guess is human butt cheeks dolled up in clown makeup.) Things Teddy doesn’t know/remember/understand: his mama had breast cancer, and may or may not have any viable eggies, and is also 40 years old, an age by which reproductivity takes a deep nosedive. His mama has already tried implanting one frozen embryo into her uterus, but it swam away and didn’t want to stick. She has two more frozen embryos on ice, and will try implanting those sometime soon, but the longer she is off of her Tamoxifen, the more terrified she is of cancer coming back.
Today is International Women’s Day, and it feels more pertinent than ever. How did women’s vaginas ever become reduced to being called a pussy? Do vaginas look like hairy little cats somehow? The vag is one powerful organ. Oh, a pussy? Yeah, babies come out of those – vaginas are basically superhuman. So I made a cake for the vagina today. xo Lyndsay
Rugelach & Honey Cake
by tag - not 0, greater than 1
Buttercream Rose Petal Mini Cakes