So every time we go to the doctor, we discuss my milk production and how I freak out about not having enough. The doctors always reply with "well you should feed him on a schedule of every 3 hours. Babies love schedules."
Really? They do? Because I have a baby, and he doesn't seem to be into schedules. It's that simple? Just give him a schedule? It's that easy. How many children do you have? Zero? Tell me how that schedule works out for you buddy. Better yet, tell me how that schedule works out for your wife, because you probably won't be at home all day going out of your mind with an arbitrary schedule.
Baby, I know you are hungry, but it's not lunch:30 yet. Suck it up, we have a schedule to stick to. Time to get your ready for the work world kid. I am going to schedule your poos too.
Schedules don't work. Thanks for the simplistic advice of uselessness, that makes me feel like a failure at parenting though. I will make sure to send you a Thank You.
I haven't styled my hair in like 3 weeks. When I actually find the time to shower, I get out and IF I am lucky I have the time to COMB it. I am going to cut it off. I am going pixie. I have decided it's time. Yep. I've got a kid that pulls it out. It's time.
Here's to hoping I don't look like a boy, and that no one calls me shim this time around.
I get nervous about making style changes.
I've made some real bad mistakes.
I was recently reminded of the fact that as a senior in High School I had a boyfriend that was obsessed with Shania Twain, and in order to be more appealing to him, I bought a pair of leopard print velour bell bottoms. I also bought a pair of purple corduroy overalls. Which is more tragic? The overalls. Why? Because I bought both items at The Limited Too because I am the size of a tween, and the only problem is that I have a freakishly long torso. So, the overalls gave me the WORST crotch wedgie ever. I have purple, corduroy, camel toe from hell.
*side note...That boyfriend was the same boyfriend that asked to borrow every piece of spandex I owned for "wrestling" sleepover. He then called me the next day to pick up the 105 lb weight class guy Rodger (why I remember his name I will never know) to take him to the mall to get him sobered up. He apparently projectile vomited all over the walls and needed coffee to make him sober. Uhhh, sorry to break it to you...but he's not going to sober up from coffee. PS How did my spandex work out? Why were you wearing it? No I don't want it back. That break up was best for everyone involved. Maybe he thought that since I wore his Letterman's jacket, he could wear my spandex.
The leopard print bell bottoms were a train wreck as well. Don't get me wrong, but I loved them. In fact, I might still have them in a closet at my parents house. I save these kinds of things in hopes that I will have a child that thinks they are "cool." Those pants have a rip in the leg though. I was at a friends house and was walking to my car, when their Shelty named Kramer bit me and tore a hole in them. It's ok though. The dog was in THERAPY at the time. Seriously. On Prozac and the works. I've only been bitten once. I'd like to think he was confused by the leopard print, and was just having a "call of the wild" moment. He was just hunting me for my pelt.
What an unfortunate end to a very unfortunate pair of pants.
Chad still makes fun of me for those pants.
Ahhhhh! So many doctors know NOTHING about milk production! And how most women CANNOT sustain lactation for an extended time period feeding only every three hours! Seriously, I think all OBs and pediatricians should have to take more than an hour lecture on human lactation. (My ped was upfront about that--was like, ask someone who knows, cause I really don't). Someday some woman should sit in the office for three hours and not feed her baby just to prove a point. They'd change their advice pretty quickly.
ReplyDeleteAlso, I love the pants story. Strangely enough, I REMEMBER you in those purple overalls. Which is weird because I had blocked out most of my memories of *ahem* band and I'm pretty sure that was the only class we had together in h.s.
I hope you don't remember the epic wedgie front to back that went with them. Ha! I can only imagine WHY you remember those overalls. I had "friends." They clearly felt it was a fun joke to let me wear those tragic outfits.
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