It started when we were pregnant. “Wow, the baby is getting really big!”. Translation: You are getting fat. “My wife is really hormonal”. Translation: My wife is a psycho b&*%h. “Really, you’re not ever going to trrry breastfeeding?”. Translation: You are a horrible mother.
It continued after we gave birth. “You look reeaaaaaal tired. Poor thing.” Translation: You look like crap. “Don’t worry, you’ll get your body back some day”. Translation: You’re still fat. “My wife is really hormonal”. Translation: My wife is still a psycho b&*%h. “Awwww…he just needs to fuss a little”. Translation: STOP picking your baby up whenever he makes a peep. “Maybe he’s still hungry? Is he still hungry? Maybe you should try feeding him?”. Translation: You don’t know what you’re doing. Obviously if the baby is crying it’s because he is hungry. “ohhhhh he’s colicky”. Translation: You’re baby is caaa-raaaa-zy!
I would respond to most of these things with a smile and a nod. Translation: Yes, I know I’m getting fat. I realized that this morning when I tore through my closet looking for ONE piece of clothing that did NOT make me feel fat. But now, after chatting with you, this shirt is going to the floor of my closet with the rest of my fat clothes. Yes, I know I’m hormonal honey. I have a HUMAN being growing inside of me. A HUMAN BEING. No, I’m not going to try breastfeeding. Why? Because I don’t want to try. Would YOU like to breastfeed my baby? (in some cases, I feel like that answer would have been yes). POST BABY :Yes, I know I look like crap. I have spit up caked in my hair and I was up at midnight, 4 and 6am. I fell asleep at 645am only to be woken up again at 715 at which point I threw in the towel and gave up sleep for the day. I’m fat because it’s 9 thousand degrees outside in Illinois and my crotch was ripped open 10 weeks ago…together not making for ideal “working out” conditions. My “horomones” are out of wack because I just detached a HUMAN BEING from my body so if I would like to be a psycho for at least the next year, I think I get that pass. My baby is crying and therefore I am getting a physical reaction. There are muscles in my body that are starting to tighten. Therefore, I am going to pick him up. If he ends up a maladjusted spoiled child, you can blame me later. For now, let’s just go with…”He’s a baby. He needs his Mommy”. And no, he is NOT hungry. He just ate 15 minutes ago. I can feed him again but since he is NOT hungry and his stomach is only the size of a golf ball, I will make sure that when I burp him he is facing you so that the projectile vomit lands on your know it all lap. And finally, yes, I know my baby is fussy but stating to me that he is colicky is like me calling my mother-in- law in a bitch. My husband can say it but I can’t. It’s just taboo.
Hahaha! I LOVE YOU!
I love your blogs! You always know the way to put things into an honest but humorous way. You make me smile and laugh and it is nice to know that i am not the only one that feels this way sometimes. You rock and we need to get together again sometime soon. Keep writing I enjoy them.