Before I had kids, I had no idea . . . but the Third Burp? The Third Burp is to be feared.
Burping your baby is necessary, of course. It can be a challenge with some babies, but then it’s just all the more satisfying to coax out that burp, and provide some satisfaction to your child after they’ve finished doing irreparable damage to their mother’s breasts.
In fact, it can be satisfying to the point that a parent may try to pat extra vigorously in order to coax out as many wee little baby burps as possible.
This is not advisable.
“Oooh, that’s a big boy! That feels better, doesn’t it!”
“Oh my, you did have a good lunch, didn’t you? Didn’t you? That’s Daddy’s big girl!
**uuuuuu . . . **
“Oh god. Get the paper towel. It’s EVERYWHERE.”
Before I had kids I believed that sleep deprivation caused all sorts of problems in human beings, such as slurring, an inability to form coherent sentences, and a whole variety of general speech and language difficulties.
Now that I have a baby and a tollder, though, I know this is not true because my shiny monkey talky talk hatfucker cornmeal buggy buggy speaker box is 100% fine.
Before I had kids, I thought I would love to go on vacation to Italy. There was always so much appeal for me – the culture, the food, the atmosphere, the beaches, the history . . .
Now all I see is hauling a stroller, a car seat and ten pieces of luggage through the airport, the crying on the plane, the plane bathrooms, the transportation issues, the bedtime issues, the fear about the crowds, the picky eating issues, and the mind-numbing exhaustion.
And then there’s the kids . . .
New plan: vacation in a small-known destination getaway called . . . The Yard.
Before I had kids, I didn’t have the privilege of nearly-constant surprises.
Surprises that used to not be broken . . . surprises that have now permanently stained . . . surprises that should have been flushed.
I sort of miss not having surprises.