Only just recently, the weeks of getting 5 or 6 hours of sleep a night in two hour chunks finally caught up with me. Somehow, the following scene was wildly hilarious at the time and when recounting the experience to friends, I realized you really, really, really had to be there.
For posterity, here is Leslie’s brain on sleep deprivation:
Figure B: FLYING BABIES!
I know I posted a little about Baby O’s birth story. But what you don’t know is that I left out one very ironic and very ME piece of information. It’s the kind of information that rivals walking around the mall with toilet paper stuck to your shoe or your skirt tucked in to the back of your pantyhose. It’s the kind of information that is only horrific if you DON’T tell people and if you do, well, it’s downright hilarious. It becomes an... Read more
Despite being raised Catholic, I do not believe in Angels. At least, not in the “people in the sky with wings and halos” sense of the word. Much to my Mother’s dismay, I don’t even believe in God. At least not in the traditional “bearded man sipping gin and tonic in the clouds” sort of way. (Doesn’t everyone’s God sip G&T? Or is that just me?)
Maybe I believe in miracles. Maybe I believe good will always triumph over evil in the end. And maybe I believe God uses Starbucks baristas with moppy blond hair and a dopey grin... Read more
You know how when you’re young and agile, you sit around with your friends discussing the latest episode of Boston Common? And then you know how you hit thirty and you sit around with your friends at your only Mom Night Out in year that you’ve had single drink and you play, “Would you rather?” And you know how you discuss for a good hour or more the merits of carrying around a colostomy bag verses having your foot cutoff?
Because seriously? A colostomy bag? Or a missing foot?... Read more
Baby O is one month old. My son, my last born child, the tiny 5 pound little man, is one month old. And I can already picture him walking out of the house in 18 years, loading his car, heading off to college and watching with both pride and tears of remembering the time he was one month old.
We’ve come a long way, Baby O, from people joking about the beach ball under my shirt to those gawking at the beautiful boy I hold. For whatever reason, yours or my body’s, you blessed us Read more
We’ve reached the point in Baby O’s life were his eye-lids don’t seem to work if he’s laying down on his own. That is to say, the minute you lay a completely sleeping baby down, his eyes pop open and he starts fussing and crying. Girlhood doesn’t prepare you for this day, what with the dolls that ALWAYS closed their eyes when they laid flat in the pretend crib.
Dolls should come with reflux.
I believe it’s some sort of Karmac payback for uttering the words, “I might want another one…” And now? I’m so [enter every... Read more
Last week we talked to another pediatrician about Baby O’s increased crying. Armed with a healthy knowledge of reflux and colic from our previous experience raising a baby, we took fantastic notes for four days before calling with an irrefutable list of evidence. Dr. McYummy agreed and he handed us the flux-juice that promised to make our lives as near normal as parents with a newborn can expect. Life will still suck, he tells us, but it’ll suck a lot... Read more
Mrs. “Holy hell my nipples are rock hard.”
Mr. “Pumping is the Mom’s Viagra?”
Mrs. “I think I’ve reached the six hour limit and should call a doctor. I’ve had a boob erection for days.”Read more