Thank you for being a friend

I don’t understand why my baby falls asleep mid-suck. If I had a boob in my mouth, I wouldn’t be asleep. Of course, if I had a boob in my mouth my husband wouldn’t be asleep either. He’d be in the background filming the whole thing.

I’ve corked my screaming son’s mouth with a pacifier. I know most books advise against this because of nipple confusion, but his pacifier is the only thing other than my boob that soothes him. Besides, what is he going to confuse my nipple with? The perfume counter at Macy’s? The original cast of ER?

After the two-hour feedings, I am certain he knows the difference between my boob and say, a puff pastry.

Sometimes I sing to Nathan but then I remember that I’m really bad with lyrics. So I fill in the blanks with, “Something, something…” I do however know all the words to the Golden Girls theme song. I’ll wait until he’s a bit older before I belt out the other song I know by heart: “Baby Got Back”.

I worry that my son will be a smart ass and he will have inherited this trait from me. For example, while watching television this conversation ensued:

Mike: Do you think that guy’s attractive?

Me: Yeah, if you’re really into ears.

And there’s this gem:

Mike: So let me get this straight, the voices our son recognizes are mine, yours, and Dr. Phil’s?


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