I do, I love my ma and my da. They have been phenomenal rock stars in these hazy first weeks, making sure I eat and sleep, doing baby laundry. Actually, I think in making sure I eat, they have forgotten to eat anything themselves a few times. And my mother is one of the funniest people I know…unless I’m running on two hours of sleep. Samples form this week:
Me: I think my beauty peaked when I met Husband, when I was 27.
Mom: That’s not true.
Me, anticipating a warm, fuzzy reassurance.
Mom: You peaked when you were 22.
Me: This breastfeeding business is neverending. I’m like feeding and pumping for three hours and then have to start over.
Mom: (overexcited, slightly blaming me) I know! That’s what I had to deal with when you were a baby!
Me: Cool, so when the baby gets older, let’s make him feel guilty about it.
Mom: See, see! His head is less round than yesterday!
Me: Don’t take it personally, Junior. She’s always like this.
Me: Can you pick up some cheese on your way here?
Mom: No, I understand cheese you guys eat. What about cheddar?
Me: Sure, cheddar is good, cheddar is great.
Mom: I know cheddar.
Mom: Oh no, the blanket is covering his mouth! He can’t breathe.
Me: Oh boy.
While we’ve had some Michael Jackson-in-Germany-with-the-baby-covered-in-blanket moments in our Swaddle Olympics, so far, we have kept the baby alive. Yay! This is mostly because we’re showing superhuman control in not eating his head.