Disclaimer: For those readers that don't have kids, I am so sorry that you have to be subjected daily to the neurotic workings at Chateau Cookie. I remember when I didn't have kids and I hung out with those people that had kids and I thought, "for God's sake, could you please find something else to talk about other than how the sweet potatoes looked running down Princess's face. Get a life or at least start drinking more." I would KILL for a life right now. A job which would provide me with an escape from the black hole in which I find my self spiraling downward... And I promised my mother I would stop referring to E as "the Monster" or "Satan" or "the Evil One." She thinks it could, like, harm his psyche or something. At least I'm not calling him an "f-er" behind his back like SOMEONE I know.
These baby books are crap. "At so-and-so age, your child will start to exhibit the following characteristics: ..."
Where the hell is the part that explains that the sounds you hear emanating from the room are the entire contents of the crib being thrown across the room and hitting the door. Don't get me wrong. The kid is clearly destined for Little League. I'm on it. But he is 7 months old, for heaven's sake. Why did I think that he would be an infant until he was 1? You know, one of those kids that coos and cuddles and plays quietly in the corner. Maybe even keeps his clothing clean and smiles at the camera occasionally. I know I should be happy that he has the attention span to weather several increments of the Senate Confirmation Hearings on a daily basis and that he can heckle with the best of them. I know, where else in America is a baby being forced to watch the hearings? Hey, he was born into this family so he is just going to have to put up with us--lock, stock and Glock barrel.
On the bright side, I spoke to my friend Becca yesterday and she is 37 weeks pregnant. I asked her if she was contemplating killing herself yet and she said yes. As bad as my life is now, I'm am sure glad I am not 37 weeks pregnant. THAT was the worst. I think I would rather have the entire contents of my house thrown down the stairs than feel that way again.
So Becca, good luck. Just think "Ben and Jerry's." The only two men that never talk back and will truly know how to make you happy for the rest of your life...