Get this: I have a four month old baby girl at home AND a boy who is going to turn seven! Not only do those two thoughts make me say, “Holy shit!” aloud, they also make me say, “Damn, I’m getting old,” in my head.

You never have to wonder where the swearing comes from, do you?

I have got  to stop reading the week by week sites about “what you’re baby is doing!” because poor little ZGirl comes across as a vegetable. Albeit she’s a cute vegetable. At nineteen weeks she is quite content to lay on her back and still not even attempt to roll over. I have found her turned on her side a time or two, but nothing more. I can put her on her stomach and maybe, just maybe, she’ll roll over. That part is worth the waiting since she looks positively stunned  by the action itself and still throws out her arms as if to catch herself from falling.

Things have turned dire as to the breastfeeding/pumping business. While her demands increase, the supply decreases. We all know what happens when the supply and demand scales are tipped negatively. Actually, it wouldn’t seem so bad if she would just take a bottle, the fussy wench.

In a year, it will all be something to look back on and laugh (oh, how we shall heartily  laugh! I hope.). As soon as the bottle appears, she begins her wailing. Insert nipple. Wailing now escalates to screaming, but because milk is dripping into her mouth, the cry has been reduced to gargling. Cue choking. Add in more wailing and maybe some real tears. Calm baby. Look, she’s smiling again. Put nipple to mouth and now that she’s knows what’s coming, she purses her little lips tightly together as if to say, “uh-uh, no way”. Make googly eyes at her. She smiles and opens her mouth. Try to sneak in nipple. Begin the endless tongue thrusts to remove foreign object.

And for the finale? Fall asleep.

Every. Evening.

I am so going to use this against her as an adult whenever she complains about the boys who only have interest in boobs at which time I will tell her the story of how she herself use to be a Boob Girl. Boob, boob, boobies. Oh, yes, how we’ll laugh  it up then.


P.S. Are you participating? C’mon. What better way to exchange addresses and stalk each other?