It's the Little Things
Simon and I have invented a new game. It's called Hold Him for Five Minutes and I'll Be Right Back, and it lasts upwards of half an hour, during which the baby inevitably poops out his leg holes.
***
My boobs are psychic. A few weeks ago Wombat was napping in one room while Simon and I were resting in another when all of a sudden I got that telltale let-down tingle. "The baby's going to be awake in about a minute," I said. "How do you know that? He just fell asleep." "The boobs know." And they were right. Psychic boooooobs!
***
While scrolling through old bookmarks on my work computer, I came across my old pregnancy tracker. Its calculations tell me, rather matter-of-factly:
422 days have passed since conception and you are 156 days past your due date.
You are 62 weeks into your pregnancy.
You are in the 3rd trimester.
Am I wrong to think there should be a point at which the calculator auto-directs to a default page that says "YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT ANYMORE. GO FIND YOUR BABY"?
***
When the baby needs extra milk, we call it "going to Gitmo." As in "I'm gonna git mo' milk!"
***
I'm lucky because I have to use a breastpump in the office only one day a week. I'm unlucky because I have to use a breastpump in the office, period. Here I thought it was hard sneaking a tampon into my shoe before heading to the bathroom, and now I have to take a backpack and satchel of accessories to the printer/copier room twice a day? At least the woosh woosh of the pump resembles the woosh whoosh of the copy machine. For all anyone knows, I'm just xeroxing. For ten minutes. With the door closed. And my shirt off.
***
The baby produces the grossest farts ever known to man, woman, child, or beast. Paint-peelers. It's in the moments immediately after their release that I curse the dude who invented breastfeeding, aka the Latch of No Escape.
***
Words and phrases that make the baby laugh maniacally:
boo
peepee
bok choy
stinky baby
bottle of wine
bottle of Jack Daniels, this big
OMG, I've said it before, and I'll say it again: You guys are the world's funn(i)est parents ever.
why don't you put the tampon in your bra? that's where I put mine and I stick one there before I leave the house...
I'm dead with the funny.
That was awesome.
you guys are hilarious! I loved the end where he had second thoughts. I can't imagine Simon NOT having a kid!
Bras and shoes? Have pockets gone out of style? (though I guess if you are in a dress then yeah, pockets wouldn't be an option) :) The other day my fiance ate McDonalds and Pepperoni Pizza in the same afternoon. Are the baby's farts worse than a grown man's McPep farts? Because if they are I might simply have to stick to having furkids :)
Tampon in the shoe! That's hilarious. I usually stick it in my pocket or the waistband of my skirt or pants. I don't know why it's such a big deal, but it is!
Ha! Hilarious! My 21 week old is smitten with "Weeeee" and "Stinky Pete" and "Why" spoken just like Fergie from BEP in the song "Shut Up"
Wombat is precious!
I agree - bok choy is HILARIOUS. Even more hilarious, is baby bok choy (also, a very cute vegetable)
Ummm.... I think I know that game.
I freakin' loved this post!!
Bottle of Jack (THIS BIG!) and a Vimeo link for the boy's 21st, so!
That is so freaking funny!
This entire post is cracking my ass up, especially GO FIND YOUR BABY. Hee!
HA! We play that game too!
and seriously why didn't anyone tell us about the FARTS of death?
that is one happy baby right there!
A bottle of wine make *me* laugh maniacally as well. Wombat and I will be fast friends.
This adorable child is definitely one happy camper when it comes to alcohol!!!
This adorable child is definitely one happy camper when it comes to alcohol!!!
This adorable child is definitely one happy camper when it comes to alcohol!!!
ohmigod. his laughing? just about killed me. LOVE
Wait until a male co-worker (or your CEO) walks in on you pumping. That happened to me, even though my office door was closed. I think I have found my CEO's weak spot... heh heh heh....
Oh man, the pregnancy tracker comment killed me.
I love that the pregnancy trackers just keep going, and going, and I wonder if you check back in a few years, will you still be in your third trimester?
That Hold Him For Five Minutes game turns into Watch Him For Five Minutes and wow do we play that a lot! :-) I become a police woman all "Where are you going? What are you doing? That task takes longer than five minutes and YOU KNOW IT!"
Good stuff. Oh, and I love your psychic boobs :-)